My Dear Morphine
by Crying Sorceress
Summary: Update! AU. "The cry was worse than that of thousands of tortured infants, worse than the moaning of the dead. It was filled with pure desperation and anguish. The great Eriol Hiiragizawa fell so far down that he couldn't even dare to look up." ET.
1. Predestination

**Summary: **AU. A mature, strange philosopher with a failing marriage seeks the help of a young, curious healer. Fate has its curious ways. ET.

POV: first person, alternating between Tomoyo and Eriol every chapter.

Genres: drama, romance, angst, hurt/comfort.

Usual disclaimers apply.

My _Na_tional _No_vel _Wri_ting _Mo_nth 2007 work, until chapter 11. NaNoWriMo is basically where someone attempts to write a 100k words novel in a month. I started for 11 days (a chapter a day) and obviously didn't finish. The story was inspired by Tomoyo and Eriol, two of my favorite characters of all time but in the original story, they were called Madison Liang and Christopher Whiting (I also renamed Kaho Mizuki as Kate Moreau). But don't worry, in this version, I've kept the original names from the manga/anime. The AU parallels the universe of CSS. The story is slow moving but I don't think that it's long. However, since it was for NaNoWriMo, I tried to boost up the word count so there is enough description. It's very lightly edited because I am lazy.

Enjoy and review!

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**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 1: Predestination

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**

I've discovered that there are three kinds of people: those who inflict pain, those who receive it, and those who remove it. Most people fluctuate among these categories day to day without realizing it. However, some are simply stuck in a flat state of life. I was one of them.

To others, it was a gift. They've given me more nicknames that I can remember. The Savior. The Sin Cleanser. But most of all, I was known as the Healer. Maybe it was because I've suffered so much when I was little that I can understand any pain. But others tell me that it's the way I smile, the strange healing power of my touch, and the mysterious magic in the atmosphere of my office. Honestly, there is nothing magical about me; it is just the way I am and I never expected anything to change.

"You seem very nervous, Rena," I murmured to my last patient of the day. "Don't worry. Anything that you'll say will help me understand your situation. Only then can I make you feel better."

She was older than me but seemed so innocent as she retracted from all physical contact. Whenever she spoke, she would debate on the words and cower away every time. In the end, every session turned into time for meditation as she clung to my hand. It was customary for a patient to hold on my hand but she held it as if it was the only thing that prevented her from falling – and sadly, maybe it was true. I had not heard her speak once. She could not even say her name out loud the first time I met her.

"Rena," I began as I gestured for her to look at me, "you don't have to say anything now. But I need to know what's wrong," she nodded as I gave her a sympathetic but non-pitiful look, "this is our third session and although I know it is very hard for you to recount everything, I _know_ that you are capable of sharing your thoughts. Perhaps you would be more comfortable telling me bit by bit."

I turned around and with my free hand grabbed a recorder off my desk. "This is for whenever you are ready. No pressure."

She gave my hand a soft squeeze in understanding; it was our method of communicating. But this time, she opened her mouth and closed her eyes.

"Thank you."

It seemed like a whisper, a silent voice caught in a web of fear that was finally unleashed. Her voice cracked on the last syllable as if she had not spoken for an eternity.

Finally, she had taken a step towards recovery.

"No, thank _you_ for coming to me. I wish that I could help you more quickly but time will also help you heal."

She did not attempt to say another word and I understood perfectly. "Goodbye then."

The door clicked softly as she walked out. Everything was back to quiet again. It was a quiet Friday afternoon, after a tiring week filled with emotional distress. The gentle rays of light from the setting sun shone through the half-transparent curtains and fell on the antique books on the table. The room was decorated in warm tones; every piece was composed of shades of gold, brown and reds, a prefect combination for a comforting discussion.

Unfortunately, the silence was broken as the door clicked again.

"Rena, did you forget anything?" I asked before looking up. But as I saw the shadow on the carpeted floor, I recognized a different silhouette. A man's silhouette. "I've already seen my last patient," I quickly corrected myself.

"Are you Tomoyo Daidouji?" a rough but soothing accented voice asked.

"Yes—"

"Please, I've heard that you've never turned down anyone in need before."

"Indeed, I have not."

Casually, I finally looked at his face. His very… unusual face. He seemed so out of place, as if he belonged in another century, perhaps in the seventeenth century. His expensive suit was worn out, his shoes unpolished for years, and his long black hair roughly tied with a blood red ribbon.

"I would appreciate it if you could just make an appointment for Monday. A full session right now would tire me out even more," I offered, rather uncharacteristically rudely of me. Perhaps I was annoyed at the way he rushed in, the way he looked desperately yet condescendingly at me, and the way he didn't seem apologetic at all.

"Sunday would be good," he retorted immediately.

Excuse me?

"I take time off for myself on the weekends. My work presses a lot of emotional burden on me. The least that I can ask for my charity work is a bit of peaceful repose," I argued back in my usual gentle and logical tone. It was true that I did all of my work for free. The consultations, the long hours of silence where I sat with my patients, were all services that I willingly gave. But somehow, I always found donations in my mailbox after each patient is healed after another. Those little envelopes with checks and gift cards built my pride in my healing abilities. I didn't consider it greedy of me since the motives were pure. I had to live off _something_ after all.

"I understand," he assured, "but I can pay you. I can pay you more than you would make in a year in those donations that you receive."

"So you are familiar with my ways?" I asked rhetorically. "I'm sorry, but I do not sell my services to anyone."

"Please," he began as he looked down at the floor, as if he was ashamed of what he had to say next, "I beg you. I know that you heal pain easily. If you do not help me, you would be inflicting pain on me and I know that you do not want that."

I bit my lower lip roughly and frowned. Why did this man sound so insincere even when he is begging? But he did indeed know my ways. I would never want to inflict pain on anyone. That was my weakness. I cherished my reputation as healer above anything else.

"Fine," I muttered. His face immediately lit up. "But you will not pay me until I heal you of your pains." I was, of course, always loyal to my fashion of work.

"Are you sure you can wait that long? You might have to delay your other patients' appointments for my case. This has been a 5-years long case," he stated flatly and proudly as if I was supposed to accommodate that for him.

"I'm sure that I will manage with my usual matters," I shot back. "So, you will come here again this Sunday?"

"No."

I frowned at him once again. Why does he think he is so special?

"You will need to come to my mansion. It feels claustrophobic in this room."

Before I could retort with anything clever as he insulted my comfortable office, he handed me a fancy business card with golden inscriptions.

"I will see you then," he added before giving me a true thankful smile and walking away.

And I have to admit, for that one second when he truly smiled, he looked like one of the most handsome man in the world, a worn-out handsome man but still good looking. I wondered, what kind of pains would such a man have? He seemed to be the worriless kind who flaunts his fortune and pride in everyone's face.

I moved the card closer to my eyes and used the last rays of the sunset to see the golden script.

_Eriol Hiiragizawa._

Somehow, the name seemed familiar.

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**Author's Notes:** I know that the verb tenses are messed up, haha, but I hope that you won't mind.

**Please review**, or else, you'll never know the ending of the story, hehe.


	2. Powerless

**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 2: Powerless**

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There is a lot to a name, the way people pronounce it and how they react when they hear it. To mine, they all acknowledge my presence as if I were not a human being. I truly appreciated the respect but sometimes, it is overwhelming.

I wrote books, books that are contemplative in nature, inquiring about nature and the world around us. They called it philosophy. I called it thoughts. Either way, people respected me for them. They called me an enlightened thinker, a real sage with centuries worth of knowledge. I knew that my soul was old, that it was one way or another incarnated once or several times. They praised me for my contributions to the world but they never considered everything that I've been through. Hundreds of years of happiness and suffering, of wisdom and foolishness, of love and lost.

My soul was old; it led me to more mature people. Even as a child, I did not get along with those of my own age. It was almost comical now that I think about it but my childhood was a rough time. In fact, so rough that I have suppressed the memories away. It seemed like I had always known what the world was like and what I would become as an adult. And I knew, when I was five years old, that I would meet _her_.

She was, like all other people whom I spoke with, older than I was. Her tall and slim figure didn't appeal to me although it did to every other man. Our souls were attracted to each other. She had asked me whether we have met before – and at that instant, I knew that we belonged together, in a family. There was an eternal bond, something that I had never experienced before. She was my first and only love, my patience in nervous times, and my logic in hysterical times.

Her name is Kaho Mizuki and she was my wife. We had gotten married when I was eighteen and she twenty-eight. We both knew that we would never been accepted _together_ in society because of our strange ways and difference in age but apart, we shone the brightest of all. For that reason, she never adopted my last name. Confidently, she had claimed that with her own identity, she could get to more places.

"Where have you been?" She had a charming voice that had a strong commanding tone, far from being syrupy.

"Working late," I lied innocently as to shrug it off. She already knew my thoughts. "Expect a visitor later this weekend."

We never said much usually but that day was especially quiet. She knew that I went to a psychiatrist. She acknowledged the slowly-developing problems in our marriage and how we were unconsciously falling apart. She did not, however, want to fix it like I did. 'Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be,' she had said without any regret. She was always careful around others but never around me. Countless times, she had hurt my feelings without showing any regret or guilt. She was such an innocent soul though; I could not blame her. I was always a fool in love.

I let my fingers tangle in her smooth chestnut hair. It became a habit as of lately because I was always lost for words. With one arm, I embraced her from behind and felt her body slump as she sighed. I was disappointed but not discouraged.

"What do you want to eat for dinner?" I asked kindly.

"Mhm," she murmured as she pulled away, "fine pastries."

She was a fan of sweet things: sweet tea, pastries, bonbons, perfumes, and flowers. She smelled and consumed everything sweet yet I rarely felt anything sweet from her. Certainly, she was passionate and loving, but sweet she was not. But lately, she seemed extremely withdrawing, as if she found out something that effaced our affections.

"I will bake for you then."

"Oh, good."

Honestly, I had never baked before.

* * *

Her fingers traced lightly on my naked shoulders. She was so hesitant that her fingers trembled.

"Are you cold?" I asked worriedly.

"No, no, of course not," she replied with certainty in her voice.

As I saw her moving with more difficulty, I unbuttoned my own shirt for her and embraced her once again. She didn't withdraw; it was worse: she tensed. Her usually smooth skin became infested with goosebumps and her usually flexible muscles rigid like rocks. A sigh escaped my lips.

"Go take a warm bath. I will go to bed now," I stated calmly, attempting to hide my disappointment at her.

I wanted to make love to her, just to prove our love. It had been three months already since she had declared her distress. I still remembered that day, when she suddenly rushed into my study and exploded emotionally. _"I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry, Eriol. It's not you. It's not me. It's just that us… it'll never work. It just… can't. It would be fundamentally wrong and I know that you are a man of fundamentals. You would disapprove of this!_" It was like a riddle that prodded at my brain every second. What did she mean? What did she find out? Had we been mutual enemies in our past lives? Failed lovers?

Her night robe trailed on the carpeted floor as she strolled to the luxurious bathroom. Even when she had been so tensed a minute before, she could become more graceful than a swan. The door clicked softly and water began to rush from the faucet.

I still sat on our bed, our large and lonely bed, in half-naked defeated glory. It was truly ending. However, a glimmer hope sparked in my chest. _She _could fix everything. Tomoyo Daidouji, the renowned pain healer that many sought after. I had her to my disposition and could have never been happier in my life.

I, Eriol Hiiragizawa, am a very wise man, capable of countless powers and tricks of the mind but never had I been able to heal someone from their pains, least of all my wife's. I always caused the pain or received it harshly like I did from Kaho. I was definitely wise but sometimes, I simply did not know what to do. Tomoyo Daidouji's name simply called out to me. It was like Kaho's soul called to me, although in a completely different fashion. I truly hoped that she would become our savior.

* * *

Sunday had come faster than ever expected. Silence reigned everywhere in our mansion. It was almost depressing. The much too giant house was always empty because we preferred no other company than our own. So having a visitor, and not to mention a healer, coming sparked some strange excitement and curiosity in Kaho.

Tomoyo Daidouji had arrived, dressed in her unusually casual white blouse and blue skirt. The last I had seen her she wore an uncomfortable gray suit. Perhaps it was the fatigue that dragged down her smile at the time. That Sunday, however, she was bright and almost angelic, as if she was sent from God (whom, of course, neither Kaho nor I believed in; but it was assuring to assuming Its presence).

"Please take a seat," I gestured to the velvet couch politely.

"Thank you."

She folded her skirt neatly as she sat down, as if expecting to stay hours to discuss. And she was probably right.

"Let us begin then," she started calmly with a smile. She held out her hand slightly and looked at me in the eye. "I often hold hands with my other patients to help them speak. It supposedly comforts them."

It wasn't a command like the ones that Kaho often gave me. It was merely a suggestion, a statement without any profound implications. But somehow, I felt drawn to her beige porcelain hand. I held it tightly. I had never held someone's hand before other than Kaho's. It was a strange feeling, a new kind of texture of skin against mine. I felt a small surge of power and I smiled to myself. She was a pain healer indeed.

As a few minutes of silence passed where both of us were reflecting, I had forgotten to tell her that Kaho was about to show up.

A tall, slim, and curvy silhouette and shadow appeared in the long hall. High heels clicked on the marble floor. It was undoubtedly Kaho for no one else was in the house and no one would dare to take their shoes off in the Hiiragizawa mansion.

"Who are you?" Kaho shot across the hall as her slow walk transformed into quick steps. She was certainly expecting a psychiatrist of some kind but I didn't mention to her that I had contacted a healer. She never liked the idea of my attachment to ancient magic. "Why are you holding my husband's hand?"

At first, I felt Tomoyo's hand loosen a bit but she still held my hand softly.

"I would like to hold yours too, Mrs. Hiiragizawa, I presume," Tomoyo smiled gently. Then she turned to me and gave me a strange look. "You did not tell me that this was a double consultation, Mr. Hiiragizawa. I would have brought other preparations."

"No matter, Tomoyo."

I felt Kaho's glare on my back. Was she angry that I called Tomoyo by her first name? It was customary for someone of my rank for I was elder to everyone else in society. But perhaps Kaho interpreted it as a close relationship. It was strange that Kaho would forget the fact that I had only met Tomoyo two days ago.

"Please come and sit with us," I looked at Kaho and welcomed her at an intimate distance from me.

She begrudgingly sank into the velvet couch and looked down at the bristles of the carpet on the marble floor.

But Tomoyo made an unexpected move; with the same hand that held mine, she extended her fingers over Kaho's hand. I felt a warm sensation through my arm, an almost numbing but comfortable feeling.

And as I felt Kaho's posture soften beside me, I knew that Tomoyo's magic had already begun to melt that stone heart.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Yeah, the chapters alternate between Tomoyo and Eriol's POV's. There's really two part to the complete story and although it's moving kinda slowly right now, it'll go faster later on. Once again, I just want to remind you that I wrote this for NaNoWriMo, so of course, nothing is perfect. It was very spur-of-the-moment writing and even if I try to edit it, I can't change the plot much.

Anyhow, please **review**, it's the only thing that keeps me going!


	3. Perfection

**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 3: Perfection**

* * *

I could tell that they were a strange couple. Maybe it was the way that she leaned away from him whenever he attempted to touch her, or how despite how he noticed and grieved over her reactions to his touch, he never seemed to take them in mind for more than a second. He bore the same tired and pitiful smile as the one he had two days ago in my office. Yet, they both regarded each other with an eternal love, stretching to possibly unknown distances and times. I knew that they had been connected for more than a lifetime: a few reincarnations, perhaps. Although Hiiragizawa's face seemed so much more youthful and perhaps playful in nature, his actions portrayed him as a middle-aged man, a wise philosopher who was out of place. On the other hand, she was always the perfect woman with perfect grace, morality, and beauty. She was older yet more childish and less wise than he. What truly distinguished her was her pride - she held herself higher than anyone else. They were both so proud that I couldn't look at them without contempt. Sure, they were people of high society, higher than I would ever be but they thought so highly of themselves that they secluded themselves from all others.

Yet, they invited me into their home.

I knew that Mizuki hated me. I could not dare to accuse of her of being jealous. It was most unlikely anyway. There was nothing about me to be jealous about. The only power that I had over her was my understanding of her thoughts and of her husband's thoughts. Perhaps she was scared that I would tap into her mind and discover a dark secret. What I was curious about was _what_ there would be to discover. A woman of her perfect nature shouldn't have anything that I could use to blackmail her.

They were the perfect couple. I could feel it. Their auras were already evenly mixed. Each piece of their soul and body that they shared caused their auras to exchange and intertwine. Mizuki perhaps couldn't sense it but I knew that Hiiragizawa felt it. Slowly, their auras began to separate, each returning to its own natural element: Hiiragizawa's black and Mizuki's pale red.

"Who," I turned to Hiiragizawa and asked, "do you think is responsible for this?"

"For what?" Mizuki interrupted, her voice still filled with frustration of her ignorance. Indeed, she did not welcome my intrusion into their lives.

"Your drifting apart," I stated flatly.

"We are not drifting apart!" she exclaimed again.

"Yes… yes we are." He perhaps regretted expressing his thoughts. I couldn't tell. But he did look withdrawn and fearful of her reactions.

"No… no we're not," she murmured but knew that it was futile. Even she realized that it was true: the perfect, traditional couple was falling apart.

"But I am here to help. Let's explore your history: how you met and what has happened recently to change those previously permanent and unchangeable emotions."

Immediately, Eriol Hiiragizawa took the role of the story teller. It seemed as if it was a habit; he was always the reflector, the talker and the initiator. Mizuki merely reacted to everything that she listened to.

"We met at a conference while I was only seventeen. I was to be awarded a prize for my excellent discoveries of the mind, compiled in a book that was published a year before. It was a success among psychology and philosophy lovers, both inexperienced and wise. I was introduced to Kaho, the date of one of the men who decided to offer me the award. We recognized each other instantly. It was…," he paused to take a moment to think.

"It was as if we had met before," Mizuki continued for him, as if confirming their strong bond and attraction to each other, "we always understood each other even though no one else did and soon after, we became much more than friends."

"Her date was quite furious that I stole her for the night and henceforth though," Eriol gave a light chuckle.

"At first, no one accepted us for our difference in age. Eriol just turned eighteen while I was twenty-eight. But they didn't understand that he needed someone like me, someone mature, composed, assured, and understanding," Mizuki somehow stared strait into my eyes. I was not sure what she was implying but her intentions definitely weren't pure. "We lived almost in seclusion."

"Even until now," I added as I gave a glance around the spacious room. "I can clearly see that you two are soul mates."

The two nodded at the same time, as if their reactions were synchronized.

"Many don't know this. There are actually a few kinds of soul mates, and not all are bound by the same love or feelings," I began. It seemed to me that their problem dated back to their connection, to how they were kept together for many years. Perhaps something that Kaho Mizuki knew broke that link. Eriol was obviously oblivious to all this.

Indeed, Mizuki narrowed her eyes at me, almost hissing as she spoke, "I don't believe in that, in souls, reincarnations and such. Eriol is simply a very mature and wise man. We didn't fall in love because we were _soul mates_ but because we could understand each other."

"But—" I started but was rudely interrupted.

"No, it is definitely like that. If you have interpreted our past differently then I think that you are not fit to help us at all!" Mizuki exclaimed. She suddenly flung her hand away from mine in anger and turned away from me.

The room fell back to quiet and neither Eriol nor I attempted to start a conversation. I really had no choice but to excuse myself.

"Next time—"

"There is no next time!" her voice screeched again.

I glanced at Eriol and received a reassuring look in return. So he wanted to continue this despite his wife's wishes…

"Next time," I continued, ignoring Ms. Mizuki, "I will speak to each of you individually."

"Thank you, Ms. Daidouji," Eriol finally spoke with a smile. It was nice to hear his sincere voice; it contrasted so much with his wife's.

He slowly let go of my hand, as if hesitating to leave the warmth. Perhaps he was scared that without my healing powers, his fatigue and worries would return.

"I will walk you out to the gardens," he stated without listening to any objections.

I had no choice but to follow. Before I turned around, I noticed Mizuki's glare on my back. I understood—she hated me for interrupting their quiet life, for her husband's confidence in my healing abilities, and perhaps for the reassurance that she felt when she held my hand. I am not a magician and nor do I read thoughts but digging into people's minds can be done through more common ways than just magic. Besides, I did not believe that I had any magical powers at all. At the time, I believed that magic was a tool of evil.

The walk to the garden was completely quiet. It was almost haunting. The mansion was huge and mostly empty. It was a saddening sight, that such a beautiful building would be filled with nothing but a lonely couple who believed that they understood each other but actually knew nothing at all. I knew that I would try my best to solve their mystery soon. Their case strangely called to me.

I noticed Eriol's hand close to mine, as if he truly needed to grasp on to some comfort. After a while, he did hold my hand. I turned to face him and gave a reluctant smile.

"Please take this, it will make coming in much easier," he said with a kind but distressed tone.

It was a key. A key to his—no, their—house.

"That's not very necessary. I doubt that your wife will enjoy my unnoticed intrusions in the future," I stated flatly, showing no hurt or regret. "You should have told me that your case was about marriage."

"It isn't exactly about marriage, is it? Our link is dying," he stared into my eyes, knowing that I understood his words.

"I will make sure to mend it then."

Then, finally, he let go of my hand and gave me one last smile. "Have a safe trip home."

I did not bother to thank him before I left for I believed that I was doing a favor to them, not the other way around. Besides, it was true. My services were of charitable nature…

As I walked down the paths down the hill on which his mansion sat, my happiness and pride slowly began to descend too. These patients were special. I've never encountered someone like them before, so perfect for each other yet so distant. I've never had to deal with a patient who hated me before. I honestly didn't know what to do with Ms. Mizuki. She would not listen to my advices even if she knew I was right. There _must _be a way to convince her that I'm right.

At the base of the hill, I looked back at the mansion and was surprised to find it in a cloud of mist, as if the mansion floated in the sky. These people were truly isolated from the world. In the twenty-first century, only someone like Eriol Hiiragizawa and his wife could survive solitarily with no modern commodities and pretend that pain did not conquer them. I was surprised that neither had come to me earlier.

I sighed as I realized that this might be the first case that I would not be able to solve.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Quickly edited. College is starting really soon. Being a freshman is so stressing! I'll try to update this at least once a month. I do have it written… just in crappy form? Haha.

Yeah, this chapter was kinda boring but I had to give you Eriol & Kaho's history. Can't write an AU story without that. Things will really start moving in a few chapters.

Please **review**, it's the only thing that keeps me going!


	4. Plum Blossoms

**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 4: Plum Blossoms **

* * *

"I wish that you could stop looking at those books," her morning voice echoed across my reading room. She leaned against the door frame and stifled a yawn.

"I would if I had anything better to do."

"You could take care of the garden. Your beautiful gardenias are dying."

"Exactly," I smiled to myself, "that's why I am reading a book on gardening."

"A book about _magical _gardening," she frowned in return as she skimmed the title of the antique tome, "just because plants grow better after every time you water them while chanting in some mysterious language doesn't mean that the spell actually works."

"You should trust in these more often," I stated absentmindedly as I dug right back into the book.

Out of rebukes, Kaho walked away dejectedly. I had already memorized her routines: first she would undress of her sleeping robe, and then she would put on her business suit and wedding ring, in an almost systematic fashion. About a minute later, the coffee maker would emit a strong intoxicating perfume that would truly wake her up for the first time that morning.

"Goodbye."

"Have a nice day."

As the car's engine started, I felt lighter than before, free to explore my magical knowledge. I never came to understand why Kaho didn't believe in magic. She lived in it everyday as I performed it every other hour. As a lawyer, she undoubtedly has seen it before in her cases too. It was evident and unquestionable, yet she doubted it. Perhaps she hid her reasons for detesting magic. It did not matter for I had my secrets too.

I strolled to the main halls, then to the living room, where the only telephone was located. Unconsciously, I dialed her number by memory.

"Tomoyo Daidouji speaking," came from the other line, "can you hold for a minute?" she kindly asked before I could say anything.

A one-sided conversation sounded through the phone. I could tell that she was with a patient, a very quiet patient. Exactly one minute later, her voice rang through the line again.

"Sorry," she began, "who is this?"

"Eriol Hiiragizawa."

"Ah," she said, simply.

"Would you give me the pleasure of coming over to my mansion again this afternoon? I'd like to start our one-on-one session before Kaho gets home," I requested.

"I have a patient this afternoon from one to four," she declined. That seemed typical of her.

"Please. The gardenias and lilies are blooming fully today. It is a lovely day."

"Mr. Hiiragizawa," she began calmly, but I could tell that she was growing impatient, "our meeting doesn't need to be situated in a nice setting. Besides, I am not fond of either of those flowers."

I chuckled silently to myself and said, "Actually, I cannot speak as freely when there are no flowers around. Their scent opens my mind. The weather is poor this week so I was surprised that such a lovely day would dawn upon us!"

"If you are trying to be funny, Mr. Hiiragizawa, I would appreciate your attempt at any other time but it's bothersome right now," she said seriously, "we are in the middle of November. Your evergreen garden might be filled with lovely vegetation but even you can't make flowers grow in the winter."

"Of course I can," I reassured her of my abilities. "Which flower would you like to see?"

"White plum blossoms."

"Wise choice."

There was a short pause of silence.

"I will go then, since you insist. See you in a few hours."

As she hung up the phone, my heart was pounding. Finally, I could use my magic. I stared outside the bleak windows and hummed to myself. It was a wise choice indeed although it wasn't satisfying to know that plum blossoms naturally bloomed in the cold. I always preferred a challenge. Slowly, I closed my eyes, envisioning a world of white. When I opened my eyes again, a similar vision came. The evergreens were replaced with rows and rows of white plum blossoms, the petals, soft like butterfly wings, barely clinging to the branches. I let a soft breath of air. The wind began to stir up very gently. Two, three four, petals descended from the sky in a dance. It was indeed a beautiful view.

* * *

She was amazed. And I was proud that she was amazed.

The soft white petals seemed to love her hair and tender skin as many clung to each strand and fell into her opened palms.

"I have never believed in magic before," she admitted as she examined a petal closely, as if checking if it was synthetic or real, "but this is enough proof. No one could possibly chop down thousands of pine trees and replant plum trees and make them bloom in two days. I am impressed, Mr. Hiiragizawa."

"Impressed with what? My magic?"

"Well, that too. But I am really impressed with your wife. I am sure that she has seen all of this before, hasn't she?" she looked in my direction for a response but received none. Yet, she continued, "Somehow she still won't believe in your gift. Perhaps she is jealous that she has no magic herself. Perhaps she hates me for the same reason."

"She does not hate you," I assured Tomoyo although I myself wasn't sure of the validity of my statement. "She resents your healing powers."

"That is enough to hate someone, although I assure you that I have no powers. I am merely a good talker," abruptly, Tomoyo paused in her steps. "She does not know that I am here?"

"Indeed," I chuckled to myself as I realized what Tomoyo was implying, "but she is expecting your one-on-one visit with me this week. You don't need to fear her wrath this time."

We walked towards the backyard, where a table and chairs were set up.

"Oh, what a lovely sight!" she exclaimed as she paced herself to one of the chairs. She turned to face the gardens in amazement and sighed in contentment.

It was a lovely sight indeed. The soft breeze blew into her wavy hair and the previously caught plum blossom petals began untangling themselves and following the breeze. Tomoyo Daidouji held a form of beauty that I couldn't understand at the time. I had never seen it before from anyone else. Perhaps it was because I was always acquainted with older people. She had this innocence to her beauty, a bendable beauty that had not yet matured into the kind of beauty that Kaho possessed. It was devoid of any grace or sophistication; instead, it was full of fresh possibilities and imaginative endings. It was youth.

And then, I realized that perhaps, I had that too, hidden in me somewhere. We were of the same age, both with a unique role in society. If we had met in another life, we could have been good friends; we could have went to the amusement park and prepared for festivals. Maybe that's why her name called out to me. Fate never made me take unnecessary steps before. Meeting and getting to know Tomoyo Daidouji was supposed to be a part of both Kaho's life and mine.

"Where do you want to begin, Eriol?"

I suddenly snapped my back from the scene to her in surprise. No one had ever dared to call me that before. It was always been Eriol Hiiragizawa, Mr. Hiiragizawa, or Hiiragizawa. Never… just Eriol. Not even my dying mother dared to call me by that. I suppose that even to her, I was an elder. But somehow, it sounded it right from her, as if when she addressed me as her equal, I could share so much more with her.

"I don't know," I replied.

"Let's talk about Kaho, then," she suggested. "What do you love about her?"

"Her understanding of me," I said after a bit of contemplating. "She always understands me even when I hide things to myself. It seems like she knew what was on my mind the first day that I met her."

"That means that you've been together before, in a previous life. Perhaps close friends, lovers, etc.. You two must already have exchanged parts of your auras because you were so close. That's why she's able to understand you and vice-versa."

"Yes, I know," I smiled sincerely, "but how are you going to explain that to Kaho? She doesn't believe in any of this."

"Which brings up a good question," she smiled back, as if playing a game, "Why does Ms. Mizuki hate magic? Is she jealous of your powers? Has she ever expressed desire to acquire power too? Or maybe it has been part of a forgotten past."

"I don't know," I admitted.

"It never bothered you before?"

"No, and if it did, I never sought to dig deeper."

"I'm sure that it was brought up in conversation sometime," she said, as if correcting my mistake. "You seem to perform magic very often. I'm sure that she has questioned you about it once or twice in the last two years."

"No, not at all," I shrugged slightly, "she simply lets it slide. We talk more about the present and future, not about the past. Magic is always in the past."

"But if magic defines who you are and Kaho doesn't like it, then she doesn't love you as _you_," Tomoyo explained seemingly logically.

"But for her, I am wisdom and she loves me for that."

"You sound unsure yet you know that it's true," she stated, as if reading my thoughts. "Why?"

"Maybe," I paused, looking down to my knees as I shifted in my seat, "just maybe, I would like her to love every part of me. But it's not necessary. We're fine right now."

She stared at me with a strange expression, a disbelieving and almost mocking expression, as if she was asking me 'can you believe that you hear yourself talk this ridiculously?'

"Why did you call for my help if there was nothing wrong?" she asked almost rhetorically.

"Sorry," I muttered unconsciously. I was still unsure why I had called to her in the first place. Kaho and I could have fixed the problem eventually. It would take years but eventually, everything would work out.

"No need to apologize," she put her gentle smile back again, "you wanted to share your experience. It relieves you of your emotional burdens. I am here to listen and help. Having a third party is always helpful. I'm glad that you came to me. You could have chosen couples counseling but that wouldn't have done much good for you."

I was sure that she had already told me that at some other point, reassuring me that of her services and how she was going to be there for me. Even without examining my problem in depth, she had already made me feel relieved just by being there. It was that day that I knew that there was someone else than Kaho out there, someone else who could understand me, a different me. And that reassurance was the greatest I've felt up to that point in my life. Tomoyo Daidouji and I shared a link, an unexplainable link of magic that Kaho would probably never understand.

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**Author's Notes: **I'm trying to make the names work… playing around with the usage to show how the characters feel about each other but sometimes I just get confused too. I forgot to edit out a "Ms. Liang" in the last chapter – thanks to ami for pointing it out.

I know that it's still moving relatively slowly right now so I want to keep you guys pumped up :P Syaoran and Sakura are coming in after chapter 11.

Big "things" are coming up in chapter 5/6, 7, 8… Gosh. Um. Yeah, basically, this is the last "boring" chapter. In Chapter 9-ish, the second part of the plot is starting. drumroll

**Please review, it's the only thing that keeps me updating!**


	5. Predicament

**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 5: Predicament**

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For all this time, I believed that my patients were healed because of my words of reassurance. But now, now that I know that my powers, not my graceful speaking abilities, did all that, I feel different. It's as if my pride suddenly disappeared. What I was confident in is now gone. I was merely an awkward young woman with a strange healing ability. Without it, I was nothing. Nothing.

I was scared, especially around Mr. Hiiragizawa as he was the one who made me realize this. As I uncovered the problems between him and his wife, I seemed to discover more about myself. Maybe it was because I had never dealt with a magical case before, at least, never a case that was obviously linked with magic. In every conversation, something about magic surfaced. Whether it was about how they met, what made them different, and what kept them apart, it always came back to magic.

The plum blossoms still fell from the trees, as if enchanted. Yet the petals never seem to disappear from the trees and accumulate on the ground. It was just a cycle of endless white petals falling from the sky. In this mysterious garden, Mr. Hiiragizawa seemed most at ease. It was understandable as the falling of the petals comforted me as well.

"Two months ago," he said after a pause where we both sipped some light scented tea into our systems. "Kaho suddenly barged into my study room late one night after she got off the phone to declare that our marriage was in ruins."

"Did she clarify on anything?"

"She said that it was 'fundamentally wrong.'"

"… are you cheating on her?" I asked immediately, without thinking. Then, I realized who I was speaking to.

"Excuse me?" he asked in disbelief. "Of course not."

"Right…," I murmured to myself in embarrassment, "and she's obviously not cheating on you. Or else, she wouldn't have said that." I paused, thinking for other possibilities. "I'm not sure about this but since your relationship is somewhat based on your past lives, this problem might be too."

"You mean, Kaho discovered something about our shared past?"

"Yes, something apparently disturbing that would make future relationships 'fundamentally' wrong."

After I searched through a list of possibilities in my head, it dawned upon me. But it was… almost impossible. If I told him without Kaho's confirmation, I would be making a grave mistake. Yet somehow, it seemed very likely. _It _would explain their attraction to each other, how their eyes immediately recognized each other even if they had never met before. They were indeed soul mates, a different kind of soul mates. Ones that weren't meant to love each other like this.

"I…need to speak to Kaho," I sighed. "I'm sorry."

He gave me a grave look, understanding that I had discovered something would debase their entire relationship. I could see the curiosity and fear in his eyes, his desire to know but stay ignorant at the same time. He wanted their marriage and love to stay the same forever; he preferred their routinely habits of isolation.

I could have left at that time, just walk out on him. If we had discussed further, I would unwillingly let something unwanted slip. And then, I would inflict pain on him. He looked so pitiful. He was such an honest and naïve man, yet so wise. We stayed in the silence for a while. Nothing was exchanged between us. He didn't need further comfort or explanations; he just sat there, looking at the white petals fall.

"They are beautiful, aren't they?" he said almost dreamily, "I'm glad that you requested them. I think that I'm going to keep them in the garden all winter and then switch to cherry blossoms."

"That sounds delightful," I encouraged his change of topic. Sometimes, it was helpful for patients to divert their minds. For Mr. Hiiragizawa, his love for gardening would do the trick. "Does Kaho love the gardens too?"

"Yes, she does," he leaned into his chair and relaxed his shoulders, "she loves the gardenias. But it was time for a change."

I gave him a smile, appreciating his effort to bring changes into his life. It was about time too. They were both so secluded. The only contact they had with the outside world was Kaho's lawyer cases. Mr. Hiiragizawa obviously did not discuss about those so he stayed even more in oblivion. A few days before, I took the chance to take a look at the books that he had written. The books were so … deep, so traditional. He was wise enough to know everything about the world except about himself. When it came to his own life, he was an idealist, a true fool.

"May I hold your hand?" he asked almost timidly. He seemed cold; his body shook feverishly.

I could not object to his wish when I saw his pitiful and needy composure.

His hand was so cold that it sent shivers up my spine. It was as if he was a cold-blooded animal in the middle of hibernation, stuck in an ignorant state, separated from the rest of nature. I understood why he sought after my hand. Perhaps he wanted to not only feel my healing touch but also the warmth of a human.

"Do Kaho and you have sex often?" The question flowed out of my mouth for therapeutic purposes and curiosity. I sensed his hand tense for a moment but the stiffness disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. Perhaps he was surprised that I would mention such an intimate topic so openly.

"We used to, or something like that," he looked away, as if ashamed, "whenever Kaho came back home on time. But we haven't… since she mentioned that it was 'fundamentally wrong'."

"Ah, I see."

A week ago, when Eriol Hiiragizawa stormed into my room, I thought that he was the most arrogant bastard in the world. He believed that I owed my services to him and that he would buy me over. Slowly, however, I realized that he was right. He had no ways to express his vulnerability so he put on an act of arrogance. He was so secluded that he forgot how to deal with normal human beings. He admitted that he talked to no one but his wife and editor. It was a lonely existence, and when the most important person in this world, Kaho, drifted away, it was no wonder that he was falling apart. He was such a pitiful thing… so high and respected in society yet at the bottom when it came to any social aspects. He was a bird, caught in a gold cage, in his luxurious mansion. As the bird keeper who kept his heart stable suddenly left, he didn't know how to develop wings on his own. Maybe I was the one to free him.

"You would make a good mother," he suddenly commented wisely.

"Excuse me?" I blinked back in confusion.

"You would make a good mother," he repeated.

'You would make a good mother for me,' his eyes seemed to say. Yet, his hand, as his thumb stroked my hand in an absent manner, seemed to suggest something else. I took no attention to it and merely thanked him for his compliment.

"Goodbye then," I said as I withdrew my hand. He seemed disappointed, wanting to stay in the same position for eternity, watching the plum blossoms dance in the wind.

"Goodbye Ms. Daidouji," he smiled as he spoke, "Kaho will be free Friday night. She said that she prefers meeting you in a restaurant. I will call you later to inform you of the exact time and place."

"Sounds good."

So Kaho preferred an outside setting, probably somewhere chic, as opposed to her husband who prefers the comforts of the confining mansion. I almost smirked to myself as I thought of their incompatibilities. If those two weren't soul mates, I mused, they would have never gotten together. Except for some exchange of wisdom and sensuality, the two shared nothing. Yet, somehow, they were the perfect couple. Each complemented the other.

As I walked myself out of the mansion, I looked back to the beautiful garden. Mr. Hiiragizawa still stood there in solitude, under the plum blossoms. The petals slowly stopped falling and for a moment the trees were bare. The sight was depressing: the previous beauties of nature were naked and dying. Slowly, he looked up to the top of the trees and his shoulders slumped. Reaching to a rather thin trunk, he concentrated. A soothing light that gleamed brighter than the afternoon sun soon enveloped the tree. When the light disappeared, the petals returned to the tree. But the man, I thought, seemed so exhausted from his efforts. He leaned against the tree and slowly slid down so that he sat on the ground. He picked up a few petals with his fingers and felt their soft textures. Then, closing his eyes, he entered a state of meditation.

I looked to my hands and shook my head to myself. I promised myself to use all my powers to help this man, this lovely, handsome, pitiful, ignorant, wise, and deserving man who belonged in another world.

What I was most afraid of, was that I would hurt him in return. From what I could see, there was no perfect solution to their problem. They were so entangled in each other's life that any change could alter everything. And it seemed that Mr. Hiiragizawa was the most vulnerable one; he would be the one left with nothing in the end. A part of me unconsciously promised to help him beyond my duties as a healer. Perhaps… perhaps… as a friend.

Staring into the endless skies, I sighed. A friend. It was such a strange word. One that I had difficult to understand because I realized that I had none.

**

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Author's Notes:** It's getting better, I hope. I've given a lot of hints to what the problem between their relationship is but if you've figured it out, don't blurt it out :P Other readers will find out later.

I've started college and it's quite busy… but I'll still try to update.

**Please review! I'll update faster that way.**


	6. Proscription

**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 6: Proscription**

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Whatever Ms. Daidouji did to Kaho on the evening that they met bewildered me.

That night, Kaho came back with a smile, a sly and almost scary smile. She was passionate about something. A flame gleamed in her eyes, as if she was expecting me to woo her.

"Hi, Eriol," she called almost coyly.

"What did you discuss about?"

"Huh?"

"Ms. Daidouji and you."

"Oh, you mean, Tomoyo?" she giggled after her rhetorical question.

Kaho had never called Tomoyo by her first name. And it didn't look like she intended to either.

"… Kaho, did you drink? You know that you have low tolerance for alcohol," I frowned as I analyzed her movements, attempting to recognize any strange patterns. But none showed. She was… sober and crazy?

"Well, if you're too tired, I would understand," she said gravely, disappointed.

"Too tired for what?" I was so confused. It was as if Kaho had transformed into another person.

"For some lovin', of course!"

I cringed.

"Yes, I am indeed too tired for this," I rubbed my temple and sighed.

I had no idea what Tomoyo had done to Kaho but I hoped that it was reversible. I would prefer living with a stone-hearted woman than a lustful hormonal wife.

I looked at Kaho one more time before I slipped into my study room. I felt guilty to leave her alone in the bedroom but she didn't seem to mind at all. She grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV. Instantly choosing a soap opera to watch, she settled herself comfortably against the soft pillows and smiled like a child.

I smiled to myself a little. At least Kaho seemed to love something about life. Before, every step she took looked like she tried to drag herself out of hell.

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The following morning, Kaho had decided to take a day off from her lawyer cases. The thing was… she _never _took a day off before. Her assistant was utterly confused and her clients shocked. Kaho Mizuki was known as the always attentive lawyer; she never even seemed to get sick and she even worked on Christmas. It was November the tenth, and Kaho really had no excuse to stay home at all.

"Oh, I just want to relax," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I deserve that, don't I?"

She certainly did. But Kaho never used that logic before. What was considered a waste of time before became then an essential luxury of life. "I can't believe that I've never watched television shows before!" she exclaimed as she micro-waved some popcorn. Wait—

"Since when do we have a microwave and popcorn?"

"I had them delivered," Kaho replied, shrugging her shoulders again, as she munched on her new snack.

This was simply outrageous.

I had no choice but to call Tomoyo. I shouldn't have trusted her with this. But who knew that healing powers could have… side effects? Or turn people delirious. Yet, somehow I felt like this wasn't Tomoyo's fault. When I picture her innocent smile, I never associated her with treating her patients badly. Even tough Kaho was a horrible patient for Tomoyo, the latter would not treat someone so poorly.

Without hesitation, I reached for the phone and dialed a now familiar number. Her usual, optimistic, although distressed, voice rang across the line.

"Tomoyo Daidouji speaking."

"Tomoyo," I began calmly, "what did you do to my wife?"

"Nothing abnormal. She was fine when I left her last night," Tomoyo confirmed.

"I doubt it," I frowned, although knowing that she would not see it, "Kaho is acting rather hysterical for her normal self."

There was a muffled laugh on the other side.

"What?" I exclaimed immediately.

"Sorry, I can't imagine how Kaho would act if she was hysterical. Maybe I should go over and see her situation. I assure you though that I have done nothing out of the extraordinary. We talked. She confessed. I healed her heart a little."

"What do you mean by 'heal'?" I asked curiously.

"Well, according to you, I have healing powers. I suppose that they make the person in contact feel better. I suppose that they have made Kaho forget the important qualities of her life. Maybe that's why she's hysterical in your opinions. I am sure that she is just care free. I could tell from yesterday that she has been under a great deal of stress. I am sure that a few days of delirium won't hurt her at all. It will actually relieve her of her normal stress."

During Tomoyo's long discourse, I continued to frown to myself. Was it possible that Kaho's confession was so scary that Tomoyo's healing powers reacted exceptionally strong? Because from what I could see, Kaho wasn't _just _hysterical. She seemed to have forgotten half of her life.

"Tomoyo…" I paused, searching for the right wording of my question.

"Yes?" she asked with a bit of fear.

"Can you erase memories?"

"I… I don't know."

"What did Kaho tell you? What was so grave that your powers made her forget everything?"

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid that I can't tell you that. It's purely confidential—"

"Damn it, I don't care! My wife is breaking down inside! Although she appears to be hysterical, I don't know what's happening to her heart and soul! You better fix this Tomoyo Daidouji or you'll regret this for your life!"

"I… am sorry," her voice suddenly became apologetic and shaky. She seemed so scared of me. Perhaps my outburst was a bit too much. Still, she was aggravating me. In the five years that I've known Kaho, she has never even come close to this. "Did I… hurt you because I healed Kaho?"

"Yes, yes you did."

It was a direct accusation. I didn't realize at the time how much it had hurt her. She seemed to have dropped the phone before hanging it up clumsily. It was the first time that Tomoyo Daidouji had ever inflicted pain on someone. And ironically, she had done so while she attempted to help the same person. Until then, I didn't realize how painful it must have been to be in her place, cursed for her own gift and unable to escape faith. Her bubble of perfection and of guiltlessness was finally broken.

Tomoyo Daidouji dared not to come to my mansion for another week. The next time that I saw her, she was a completely changed woman, as if fifty years had passed in a week. I couldn't help but to stare into her pitiful eyes. I frowned to myself. How could I trust such a woman with my wife's spirit? For the first time, it seemed that my magic had betrayed me, for it was magic that led me to her in the first place.

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**Author's Notes:** Uh, definitely not one of my most well-written chapters but it should do the trick. The writing style should reflect the mood a little…

College's busy as usual. NaNoWriMo's going on right now this year but I'm not doing it. I suppose that instead, I should be editing this.

Again, **please review!**


	7. Paroxysm

This is _the _chapter, where the quote in the summary came from and the longest chapter yet. All that good stuff. Enjoy!

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**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 7: Paroxysm**

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"Damn it, I don't care! My wife is breaking down inside! Although she appears to be hysterical, I don't know what's happening to her heart and soul! You better fix this Tomoyo Daidouji or you'll regret this for your life!"

His deep voice rang and echoed through the line. I was instantly petrified, my heart dropping after each word. There was a certain authority in his voice that made me cringe. He was doubtlessly angry, frustrated, and hurt. I had no choice but to apologize.

"I'm sorry," I said after a long pause, taking my time to regain my shaky voice. "Did I hurt you because I healed Kaho?" Somehow the question didn't make sense to me. How could I help someone and end up hurting someone else, even if they are on the same side. Technically, they were both my patients.

"Yes, yes, you did."

His words truly stung my heart. Never in my life have I been accused of hurting someone. I was the innocent woman, ever since I've vowed to help others with all my power and kindness. I _had _to. It was the only way to make up for the past.

My mother caused all this; she was a vengeful woman, wherever she went, trouble followed. Because I was born with her name, I've suffered her consequences. People regarded me as a devil not because I've done anything wrong but simply because I bore a bad name. My mother was a witch, a bad witch. She could control the mind, force others to do unspeakable things. I had seen all of her wrongdoings because I always traveled with her. I knew the people that she would hurt just to live a bit of her cherished hysterical happiness. Whenever someone was tortured, I would hear their screams and not be able to do anything. They always looked at me pleadingly, accusing me of just standing there and doing nothing. But really, I had no choice—I couldn't overpower my mother.

One day, she died.

It wasn't tragic at all.

In fact, people cherished her death and commemorated as the day of liberation. They shunned me, and sent me away to the mountains. It was then that I discovered something special about myself. I came across a temple, full of saintly monks, who unwillingly and pitifully took me in. I promised to do good. And they promised to teach me how to purge myself of my mother's remains, of her sins. They said that I was special. They said that I could heal people's hearts. I asked them if it was magic, fearing that I would able to hurt and torture strangers just like my mother did. Knowingly, they smiled at me and said 'no, this is something different, something better and invaluable. You will heal everyone around you, not hurt them.'

Since then, I've believed in that… that I couldn't hurt anyone. I didn't want to hurt anyone. There was already enough bad karma on my name that if I piled more, I would be drowned in my mother's sins.

Damn him, Eriol Hiiragizawa. He _asked _for it. He asked me to uncover the truth. He had no right to accuse me of hurting him. I won't let him destroy all the hard work that I've done to regain redemption. Who did he think he was? He sought to change my ways with my patients by ordering me to his house. He disturbed my concentration with my other patients with his frequent phone calls.

As I saw how he acted towards his wife, I judged him as a good man. But I was so wrong. The truth was: he was a horrible man, an insane and useless philosopher, isolated from the world, and obsessed with the only human in his life: his wife.

I realized that I tightened my grip on my cell phone so hard that my hand began to hurt. I stretched my fingers and leaned back in my chair. From the corner of my eye, I glanced at the calendar and immediately sat up. "Damn, Rena is coming!" I exclaimed to myself, without realizing that I was talking to myself.

As if on cue, Rena knocked on the door politely.

"Please come in!"

The gentle woman stepped into the room with a curious glance. I didn't blame her. My usually clean and organized office was in a chaotic state that day. Since I had been involved with Eriol Hiiragizawa, I stopped doing the little things that I used to enjoy, like rearranging my psychology books.

"Please, take a seat," I told Rena.

That day, it was extremely hard not to frown every two minutes. Rena had made no progress at all. Unlike my usual self, I grew impatient in the first ten minutes. I found my leg shaking in impatience without realizing that I was actually doing it. But apparently, Rena noticed. She seemed concerned and nervous, understanding perfectly my signs of impatience. The previous week, I got one or two words out of her mouth but that day, I got none. She couldn't even look at me in the eye without an apologetic look. For the whole session, she didn't cling on my hand; in fact, she didn't even reach out for it. Somehow, her strange behavior never crossed my mind. I just kept tapping my foot continuously in exasperation.

I didn't realize that perhaps, I was hurting her too.

"Look, Rena," I began, trying to suppress my annoyed tone, "don't come back to see me until you can tell me exactly what's wrong. I am sick of the silence. I can't analyze your problems without knowing anything! You need to share in order to free yourself of the past!" My voice echoed in my office. The usually humid and warm air seemed to be dry and cold that day.

Her eyes grew wider at each word that rolled off my tongue. She retracted from me little and little and curled up in a ball on her chair, drawing her knees to her chest. She rocked herself forward and back in a slow motion, as if she was meditating. I frowned at her. For the next five minutes, I scrutinized her expression but found nothing: no signs of confession, no signs of change, except the fact that her frail body was trembling in fear—fear of me.

"I'm sorry that this session was futile," I said flatly, with an accusing tone, "I will not make an appointment with you again unless you speak fully with me."

She nodded slowly and did not utter a word. Without anything left to express, she got out of her chair like a handicapped person and trotted to the office door. My eyes unconsciously followed her form and lingered on the office door. Something was bothering me; something pricked at my brain, telling me that something about Rena was horribly wrong, that I had missed something significant. But the rest of my brain was consumed by Eriol and Kaho Hiiragizawa's case. Nothing made sense anymore.

For the longest time, an hour, two, or perhaps three, I simply stared at the door futilely, expecting it to shout some obvious answer at me. There had to be something I could do.

Eriol Hiiragizawa accused me of erasing his wife's memories. I didn't remember that I had such power, or even any power at all. I truly preferred to believe that my healing power was only because of my gentleness. Suddenly, a sudden image flashed in my head. It was a young and charming woman, with stylishly coiffed hair, dressed in a beautiful vibrant dress, and a perfect smile. But slowly, that smile turned into a scowl of arrogance. Her icy glare spoke the words 'you are inferior to me' and made me tremble. She was—and is—my mother, the one whom I couldn't escape from. She was my greatest fear. '_You are cursed just like me. You will destroy everyone around you, just like I did. And while you suck the lives out of them, you will enjoy it. You will enjoy the power, the control that you have over others._'

Somehow, that seemed almost welcoming. But I dismissed the cruel and torturous thought. No, I couldn't be like her. That would destroy my entire existence, all that I've worked for…

Suddenly, a sharp ringing echoed in the room, waking me from my reveries. I immediately grew excited, anticipating for Eriol Hiiragizawa to call and apologize so that I wouldn't have to do it.

"Tomoyo Daidouji speaking," I began, my voice still a little shaky.

"Ms. Daidouji," a man began. I sighed into the phone, not even attempting to hide my disappointment. It wasn't Eriol Hiiragizawa. "I am Rena's brother. You need to tell me what happened during your appointment with her."

"Nothing happened," I replied flatly.  
"Nothing?"

"We just sat there in silence."

"Did you say anything to her? Anything… hurtful?"

I cringed. "No…" That was a big fat lie and my trembling voice didn't help to hide it.

"Rena locked the door to her room and has been sobbing in there for four hours." Ah, so that's how long I've been staring at the door… My mind slowly trailed away from the gentleman's words. I was sure that his message was important but I simply couldn't bring myself to concentrate. "… end up disastrous."

"I understand, sir," I said in a fake compassionate voice that disgusted even myself, "I will do my best the next time I meet her—"

"Speaking of that," he interrupted, "Rena shook her head violently when I asked her for the date of her next appointment with you. Why is that?"

"I…," I frowned to myself, trying to remember my previous outburst to the poor woman, "ah, I told her to not meet me until she is ready to tell me what's wrong."

"…" The man paused in a solemn silence. "Ms. Daidouji, I beg of you. Please help Rena. I brought her to you because you are known to heal people, to help people talk about their problems so that they can be relieved. You can't possibly expect Rena to just achieve all of that on her own. She is mentally weak right now and has no confidence whatsoever."

"I'm sorry. I promise that I will approach her better next time."

There was nothing left to say, so Rena's brother hung up in semi-desperation. My empty promises didn't seem to reassure him at all. He definitely wasn't a fool. With my trembling hand, I put my phone down on the desk and sighed. I failed yet another patient just because I was so engrossed in that stupid case. I could have just quit, refused my services but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Something in my head screamed to do something about Eriol Hiiragizawa and Kaho Mizuki's marriage. Perhaps, I mused, breaking it apart was the best solution.

I leaned backward into my chair and stared at the textured ceiling. The previous night, I had met with Kaho and we talked for the longest time, until the restaurant boss personally walked to our table to kick us out. She had so much to say and I had so much patience to listen. I was intrigued by her story and she was willing to share. Without her husband beside us, Kaho was much more relaxed and held no grudge against me. It was like she suddenly remembered that I was just a healer. Although it must have been comforting for her to lift the burden off her shoulders, I felt extremely fatigued after our long discussion; all her emotional burdens transferred to me. That was how I healed— I absorbed pain through physical contact. Usually, I had no problem dissipating the pain with my happiness and relaxation. But Kaho's pains were so sharp and heavy that they engulfed my mind. Eriol was wrong; their problem didn't just the five years of their marriage—it was much longer than that. It has existed for lifetimes, for exactly five lifetimes. That was approximately four hundred years of constant suffering from her part and the pain of her realization. I was so impressed and so appalled by their history that I doubted my own healing powers for the first time. How could I fix four hundred years of pain with a few single touches, merely holding hands with them and uttering sympathetic consolations? I would need to delve into their minds for months to unravel and fix everything. I knew that I didn't have time for that; their marriage was already falling apart at an exponential rate.

For the next few days, I refused to see patients. I probably ended up hurting them too, my beloved patients who trusted me to heal them. At the time, I didn't feel like I needed to apologize. I grumbled and scowled at their dependence on me, never realizing my hypocrisy and my previous love of helping them. Kaho's discourse ran across my mind every minute. I was just… stuck.

I thought back to the end of that night, when Kaho looked into my eyes directly and plainly, without anything to hide, for the first time. She begged me, begged me like a homeless child on the street would to a rich passerby. "I love him too much," she had said, her voice dripping with pain and regret, "I know that it is wrong. But I don't want to know that anymore. If I could forget, if I could just ignore everything that I know, everything would turn back to normal. If I didn't have these morals to follow, these guidelines to live up to, I could finally live a perfect life with Eriol. I want that more than anything, Tomoyo. Please…" It was the first time she called my first name in such a tone, one that was devoid of contempt and disregard. I had laid my hands on hers and sighed. "I understand," I told her. I had closed my eyes to help me concentrate. I had to do something to help her. Maybe, I thought, if I could erase someone's pains, I could also erase their memories, their logic, and their morals. I imagined that a light shone, like it usually would when magic is performed. But I didn't feel anything. Everything just suddenly felt empty, as if the environment turned into vacuum. Then, a split second later, everything turned back to normal. I drove Kaho home safely and bid her farewell. As she left my car, I remarked a confused look on her face, as if she forgot why she was in my car for the first place.

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I suppose that you could call it sulking…

I sulked for an entire week without speaking to anyone before I decided to face Eriol Hiiragizawa again. His accusing voice still rang in my mind over and over again as I reached for his door. Even if I felt the key pricking in my breast pocket, I rang the doorbell, asking for an invitation instead of just barging in. It just felt appropriate.

"Finally," he said as he saw me. I could feel his anticipation, for better or for worse. "It has been a week," he frowned at me in disapproval.

He stepped away from the door and walked into the main hall, not bothering to welcome me in. I reluctantly stepped inside the warm house. With a last glance at the outside, I noticed that all the plum blossoms trees from a week ago were dead, as if all the water and life was sucked out of them. I sighed. Had I affected his mood so much that his magical creations began to die? He gestured for me to sit in the living room.

"Kaho is not home," he began, implying that I could say whatever I wished to. He probably expected me to explain everything that I knew. With an intent stare, he commanded me to start.

"Kaho and I went to the restaurant—"

"Get to the point," he ordered mercilessly. "What is the big problem?" His voice dripped with venom. All his previous sympathetic smiles and his sweet behavior simply vanished with his patience. He didn't seek for my hand as he did a week ago. He simply sat there with his fingers tapping softly on the couch. His aura grew overpowering. The authority that he held in his voice chilled my bones.

I gulped and opened my mouth but no sound came out. I tried again and felt my heart almost skip a beat in nervousness. A minute of silence passed where we could hear nothing but his drumming on the sofa arm.

"In your previous lives," I began, cringing a bit at how hoarse my voice was, "Kaho had been your relative." I paused, waiting for his reactions. But he just stared blankly at me, as if he didn't digest the idea yet. "She had been your older sister for five lifetimes. What you two felt when you met… that spark, it was definitely love. But it wasn't _this _kind of love; it was sibling love and recognition. Both of you are indeed soul mates… but, you aren't meant to be lovers. Your souls have shared so many lifetimes that they keep yearning for each other. But… but…" I paused for air as my soliloquy was said in one breath. I hiccupped in fear as I watched his eyes widen slowly in realization. He was appalled and disgusted at what I was saying but didn't gesture me to stop. "You two aren't meant to be married. You are meant to be brother and sister. Your auras are so intermixed only because you have shared four hundred years together. You only seem like the perfect couple because … because you understand each other so well as brother and sister."

The silence was piercing. My heart ached for something. I wished that there were music in the background, or even to hear his scream. My heart simply stopped beating against my ribcage. Everything was suspended in time. I wondered that was a consequence of Mr. Hiiragizawa's magic.

"I'm sorry…"

He emitted a deadly cry, as if the entire world fell on his shoulders and he couldn't support its weight. The cry was worse than that of thousands of tortured infants, worse than the moaning of the dead. It was filled with pure desperation and anguish. The great Eriol Hiiragizawa fell so far down that he couldn't even dare to look up.

Suddenly, I felt something crush my breasts. I sighed, feeling a bit of relief. The great Eriol Hiiragizawa lowered himself; he was in my arms, sobbing like an infant. He was so debased that nothing mattered anymore. He clung to me even more desperately than the worse of my patients. I could feel his warm breath on my cold and dry skin and his warm tears streaking down my blouse, traversing my shirt and touching my heart. I was relieved that he reached out for me but soon, I regretted that he did. Although I knew that this was the first step to recovery, I preferred his blank-stare state. His pains were seeping physically and magically across our skins, reaching my vulnerable heart. Piled on top of the pains that I absorbed from Kaho a week ago, this new pain crushed my lungs. I couldn't breathe at all. This was a new pain that I just couldn't bear. Darkness slowly overcame me as I fell into desperation. But just before I was completely enveloped in unconsciousness, I saw a rare smile grace Eriol Hiiragizawa's lips. I didn't have enough time to decipher his smile but I optimistically viewed it as a smile of relief on his part.

I fell cold on the couch, my head hanging in midair as a cushion barely supported my back. His frozen tears soaked through my blouse, through my bra but somehow, somehow I felt a warm hand on my chest. It was a new hope for me, the first time that someone was going to heal me of _my _pains.

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**Author's Notes:** I only got _3 reviews_ for the last chapter, which is rather discouraging. With 7 favs and 13 alerts, I expected more. Oh well. It'd just be nice if the review count went up because that's what attracts more readers J

**So if you like/dislike/hate(?) this chapter, please review**. I welcome constructive criticism so please give me some of that to improve my writing. This took a lot out of me to write and edit so I think that it's fair for me to be rewarded.


	8. Paralyzed

**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 8: Paralyzed**

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Nothing mattered.

The world was void, meaningless, and cruel.

For an hour, if not two, my mind simply shut down, as if all my fuels of logic and passion had burnt out. During that time, I relied nothing but on my rash instincts. I could not think and control myself. I didn't realize that I was crying before she whispered 'stop those tears' softly in my ears. I didn't realize that she held me in her arms before she fainted on the couch. Strikingly pale, her face scared me the instant I saw it. The wrinkles not from age but from fatigue outlined her eyes and forehead. Her lips were pale purple, as if all the heat from her body disappeared and her hands were so cold that I couldn't touch them without flinching. She seemed dead, conquered by my pains.

The weight on my heart was slowly lifted as her life was slowly sucked away by my pain. Although I should have, I couldn't feel guilty for causing her pain. Part of me cursed her for telling me everything in the first place. Sure, I was curious but I didn't expect something so… grand, so convoluted. Part of me still couldn't accept it, and wished that someone would just slap me across my face to wake me up from the horrible nightmare. My Kaho… my _sister_. My wife. My everything. The sole reason for my existence suddenly disappeared. She was still the same person, with the same body and same soul but suddenly, she became a stranger to me. I couldn't accept her anymore; I couldn't accept us anymore. The pain and confusion that plagued her for the past two months transferred to me, a thousand folds as my philosophical and moral ideals and questions took over. What could you call this, other than a tragedy?

Attempting to distract myself from my profound and disturbing thoughts, I shifted my eyes to the woman unconscious on the couch. My head which previously rested on her chest slid down to her stomach. I noticed how remarkably skinny she became, as if she was starving herself like a foolish teenager would. Without her ability to heal, it became futile for me to physically touch her. In fact, her unconscious state repelled me. I retracted away from her as I felt a vortex of darkness around her aura. I blamed her pains on herself. What kind of healer absorbed people's pains? I mused curiously to myself, wondering how she coped with the pain before. Perhaps she never encountered a case like mine before?

With a wave of my hand, her body floated in midair. I still had no intention to touch her, although her pitiful state accused me of betraying her. Despite the fact that my marriage was deteriorating, I was still married and owed respect to Ms. Daidouji's privacy. Yet, somehow, part of my body yearned to envelop her in my arms and to employ magic to help her gain consciousness. As I directed her body to an empty guest room, I stared at my empty hands, smooth and unused because of my magic.

I had never been able to perform healing magic before; I simply couldn't heal. I didn't consider myself particularly evil or cursed. I could harm someone physically and derange someone mentally to an extreme degree. I could even directly suck the life out of a living being without much effort. I could make plants grow out of nowhere with some concentration. But never could I heal or alleviate someone mentally or physically.

I always either inflicted pain on others or received it in return. I never stopped the war of pain like Tomoyo did.

I deposited her body on a king sized bed, one that had been unused for so long that when her body touched its surface, a layer of dust dissipated in the air. Unconsciously, I began dusting the room with a towel that I procured from the bathroom. Doing simple chores distracted my mind enough. I cleaned every corner of the room meticulously, as if I had invited the queen of England to my mansion. I had forgotten which surfaces were already cleaned so I must have wiped everything at least twenty times. Everything, in the end, sparkled in bareness. I sighed in discomfort at the quietness. I walked to the gardens to grab myself a rigid plastic chair, afraid that a more comfortable one would lull me to sleep. Upon seeing the dead plum blossoms trees, the usual pang of pain didn't hit me. Their lifelessness seemed extremely appropriate so I could not bother myself to change anything. Aimlessly, I trotted back to the guest room, desiring to keep company the only other living thing in the mansion.

The room contained no windows and no clock so within the first half-hour, I lost track of time. I felt no fatigue and no soreness from simply sitting in the rigid plastic chair. My mind was completely blank. I didn't reflect upon Tomoyo's beauty as she slept. I didn't think of Kaho, or of our marriage. I didn't consider reviving the plum blossoms. I didn't even realize where I was.

It wasn't until I felt a warm hand resting on my left shoulder that I realized I was still alive. The hand was Kaho's. Although there were millions of reasons to not look at her, I turned my head and stared into her eyes. It was the first time that we both knew, although her knowledge was suppressed. Her eyes indicated slight happiness, probably because she had a good day at work while mine indicated nothing at all. She seemed extremely understanding as usual and although she knew that I _knew _everything, she didn't react at all. Whatever Tomoyo did to Kaho seemed to be for the best…

How could I blame Tomoyo for Kaho's happiness?

"I'm going to cook dinner," she murmured so softly that her words seemed like whispers of the wind.

Then, I understood. I understood why Kaho wanted to be healed so badly, so desperately, and why Tomoyo's magic worked that way. There was nothing that could be done to change a blood bond, secured through five lifetimes. Erasing our morals was the only solution.

I followed her to the grand kitchen, just to watch her graceful movements as she prepared an unnecessary meal. Neither of us was hungry. I glanced at the clock for the first time in hours and sighed as it indicated that it was past midnight.

As I stood there, leaning against the plain white walls, I slowly realized the extent of Kaho's love for me: she was willing to give up everything that society despised just to live happily with _me_, willing to ignore the fundamentals just so that we could live in blissful ignorance.

Something heavy and burdensome stirred in my heart. I felt those unusual tears nearing my eye sockets. I never cried before but that day… everything haunted me. I stared at the love of my life, at the perfect woman for me, and realized that I… I was unable to love her like she loved me. I was unable to give up my morals, my philosophies, for anything, not even for our bond. I knew that if I too made Tomoyo erase my morals, I would never forgive myself. I would regret it for the rest of my life.

Our marriage, already shattered in billions of chaotic pieces, was beyond repair.

My whole body trembled in a strange sensation. I felt almost relieved, knowing that at least I would not betray my morals. But at the same time, I felt guilty of betraying Kaho, her love, and Tomoyo's efforts to bring Kaho and I back together. Unable to express any of my bewildering thoughts, I simply stood there, numb against the wall.

After a while, Kaho, worried by my silence, turned to look at me. "Are you okay?" she asked although we both knew the answer to the question.

How could I be "okay"? my head screamed in confusion and wrath. There had to be something that I could do, to fix something. I cursed my magic and my past. Why was everything that I had been proud of suddenly breaking me apart? Although I had known it for hours, it finally dawned on me. It was over.

It was _over_.

There would be no more Eriol Hiiragizawa and Kaho Mizuki.

Yearning for some comfort, I searched for Kaho's eyes but found none. She understood what I just realized. And even though she always understood me before, a new kind of profound understanding struck her.

"I know, Eriol. I know."

None of us could cry; it was already futile. She simply continued her mindless cooking with her face hidden in the darkness. Tomoyo's spell must have disappeared as Kaho's body began to shake alarmingly. Although I shouldn't have, I walked to her, near the stove, and embraced her from behind. I became the younger brother, reassuring his big sister that everything was going to be alright but I wanted so much more.

"Thank you, Eriol. Thank you." Her tone had changed too. Her usually stone cold voice became soft, as if she was speaking to an innocent child. Thank you for _everything_ for these past five years, she seemed to say.

Everything remained quiet until the fire alarm suddenly echoed through the mansion. The sprinklers from the ceiling sprang to life, spouting water at an impressive rate. Even though I could have extinguished the fire on the stove and stop the sprinklers from ruining my books, drenching our clothes, and possibly giving Tomoyo Daidouji pneumonia, I simply couldn't wave my hand to summon my magic. The cool water flowed down our embracing bodies and reached my cold toes. I was fully awake yet still wished that everything was just a nightmare. I wished that the pure water could cleanse us of everything, purge us of our sins, and instigate a new beginning.

But as I withdrew from our embrace after the fire went out and the sprinklers stopped, nothing changed. The same graveness and anguish reigned in the mansion.

No hope remained. And not even Tomoyo Daidouji could change that.

Kaho, who was already very familiar with divorces, didn't encounter any problems in arranging our paperwork. The sentimental side of the divorce, however, took a while to settle in. Part of us couldn't even believe that we were married in the first place. It just seemed so incredulous. The other part of us cursed all the connotations that came with 'incest,' and wished that past lives didn't influence our present ones. We had no more blood-relations but every time our skins came in contact, guilt rushed through our bodies and we retracted from each other.

Kaho didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. I knew that she was packing little by little, folding each piece of clothing carefully as if she didn't want to leave. Optimistically, I believed that part of her didn't. After all, she remained in the mansion for months even if she knew about the situation. Perhaps she was still trying to make this work and she knew that if she had everything packed, she'd never have another chance to step back.

"Morning," I called to her as I went to the kitchen a week after the revelation.

"Hi," she smiled sympathetically at me. "Coffee and croissants are ready."

"Mhm, thank you." I gladly ate my breakfast in quiet before a curious thought struck me. "How are you feeling?"

"Why are you asking?" she asked in return.

"You threw up in the toilet last night before you went to bed," I simply stated.

"Oh, you heard that?" she sipped a bit of her coffee. "I had to go cross the lake yesterday to meet a patient in prison, you know, on the island. A combination of road sickness and sea sickness doesn't bode well for me," she chuckled to herself as if she was foolish. Her words rolled off softly from her tongue, not like before, when she forced every syllable out as if she was tortured to speak.

"Ah."

In the silence, Kaho somehow even smiled more, for reasons that I couldn't understand—or, more truthfully, refused to accept. I knew that she was relieved from the burden of knowing _it_ and as we both entered this awkward stage, she didn't need to hide _it _anymore.

"I'll be back late tonight but I'll buy some take-out. Bye, Eriol," she said in one breath before grabbing a last bite of her croissant. I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye to her.

Just like usual, the motor of her car started and roared softly as she accelerated down the mountain through the foggy roads.

"Be safe…" came my whisper although it was too late.

The mansion was so empty that I felt lost in it. It was completely quiet except for the continuous sound of water from the pond. After the revelation of _it _happened, I took on gardening full-time. Even in the middle of November, when the temperature got close to freezing, a multitude of flowers just began to bloom in my gardens. The visitors—yes, I opened the mansion to visitors—claimed that it was magical. Well, I chuckled to myself, it technically was, but no matter. I couldn't believe that I didn't perceive it before… how the company of others comforted me, how their smiles and their gasps in awe made my heart slowly heal. Perhaps that was why Kaho was always more stable than I was; she always frequented normal people at work and only spent half of her time with me. I was like a cage for myself and for everyone around me. When I turned eighteen, I promised myself to be a full-time writer of philosophy and curious articles, trapping myself in the mansion that I inherited from my father, also a prominent writer and philosopher. Although I didn't always appreciate having my works published because of people's sometime cruel judgments, I still depended on the money to make a living. My father and ancestors might have left me a brilliant reputation and estate, which I was never allowed to sell, but I was still in a poor financial stage.

I glanced at the grandfather clock on the wall and sighed. In an hour, the visitors and buyers would begin to show. They willingly paid to visit the garden and paid even more to buy the magical plants. Finally, I discovered a way to earn enough money from doing magic instead of writing thought-provoking articles read only by a few interested people.

The thought of visiting Tomoyo Daidouji suddenly pricked at my brain. The young woman was still in a deep coma, although I wasn't sure if one would call it a deep coma—it was more of a death-that-could-be-revived-stage. I believe many called it being stuck in limbo; it was beyond the stage of coma.

She was still in the lonely guest room with no windows, perhaps suffocating in the airless atmosphere. I only managed to prevent her from starving to death by a strange form of magic. Whenever I held her hand, her cheeks grew slightly red and her stomach began to rise and fall, as if my touch healed her, gave her strength, nutrition, and air. But I ignored the belief that I could possibly heal anyone. I was Eriol Hiiragizawa and I could only hurt or be hurt. There was no part of my cycle that included healing others. That, that was Tomoyo Daidouji's job, her purpose in the world. Mine was to teach and spread philosophy, and perhaps add more flowers and trees to the world. But it stopped at that. We must all have a destiny in this world, I told myself. But as I gazed at her limp body, my heart stung a little. She has such a depressing fate, my mind said, to be used over and over again by people around her. She took my pains away in exchange for her life. And although she broke my marriage with Kaho, what Kaho and I suffered was nothing compared to what she went through. She lost everything: her practice, her soul, and perhaps her healing abilities. Magic isn't a permanent power; it is merely a gift awarded to the few who need it whether to do good or evil. Magic holds no bias towards anyone except its selection in the receivers.

"No," I told myself firmly. It was Tomoyo's fault. It had to be. I couldn't possibly blame Kaho nor me for what happened—it had to be Tomoyo's fault. I chuckled to myself almost in disbelief of my own thoughts. If Tomoyo Daidouji's name never called to me in the first place when I looked for help, Kaho and I would have lived in perfect oblivion forever… "But that would be wrong. You should thank her for not committing a fundamentally wrong sin," my mind told me.

_No, no_. Tomoyo Daidouji was destined to be the bringer of death of my marriage and I was meant to hate her, just as anyone would hate Death, I finally decided. Yet, somehow, when I gazed at her pale face again, I felt so guilty, so guilty for blaming everything on this lifeless and sacrificed girl. Her lips were a bit rosier because of my touch but her skin was a pale gray, the color of a distant ghost. She already had little to lose—her reputation, her practice— and yet she lost everything. I predicted that it would take her months to wake up from her state. By that time, all her patients would have left her and she would be left with nothing, no money, no office, and no 'friends.'

What a sad existence it was…

I withdrew my hand from her body and ignored the fact that her cheeks turned back to her deadly paleness. _It's not your fault that you can't heal her_, my mind chided me again for my guilty feeling. _It's not your fault that she chose to heal you but you can't return the favor. It's really too bad for her_.

I couldn't bring myself to look at her again so I sprang out of the room in a rather distressed state. Nervously, I paced around the living room, prodding at random objects with renewed interest. Fortunately, there was only half an hour left until the visitors would come. I sighed in relieve as newcomers would probably distract me from thinking about anything at all. Unconsciously, I curled my fists and concentrated my power. It had become a routine already: the warmth, then a comfortable and soothing light enveloped the outside gardens. Everything sprang to life. The gardenias, lilies, plum blossoms, roses, tulips, peonies, cherry blossoms, poppies, violets, lavender, and sunflowers all smiled back at me.

It was only then that I was truly proud of myself. Although I didn't know of it, my heart began to melt.

I let out a sigh that came from the bottom of my existence.

It was late, extremely late, late enough to get me worried about my _sister_. (I cringed at myself at the awkwardness of that phrase.)

I dared not to cook food since Kaho had promised to bring something. Knowing her, cooking dinner would be proof that I didn't hold trust in her. Of course, I couldn't let her believe that. So I just sat there, starving in my miserable state. The mansion was so quiet that chills ran up and down my spine. Usually, I would hear the soft humming of my old-fashioned lamp as I write an article or continue on my thousand-page-novel, but that day, I couldn't bring myself to write anything. I sat there in the darkness, on the lonely king-sized bed that was no longer occupied by a couple. Tomoyo Daidouji's ghostly presence didn't help either. I wasn't scared or anything of that sort of ghosts, robbers, etc. but something stressing and ominous pricked at my magical senses. Something was wrong with Kaho. Something awfully wrong.

I couldn't bring myself to sit there anymore as I began fidgeting. It was rather uncharacteristic of me but has become a habit as of lately; whenever the visitors examined my plants suspiciously, I always fidgeted. Unconsciously, my mind brought my body to the living room, near the only means of communication with the outside world in the mansion: the ancient telephone that rarely rang. And that night, it remained even more quiet. I was waiting for anything, anything at all. I wanted to hear Kaho say "I'm staying at a friend's house", "I need to travel abroad tonight, I'm sorry", or even "I am celebrating a victory with my clients". _Anything_. Even… "I found a new love and am not coming back" would have been better than nothing. As I continued to panic, my heart accelerated to such a frightening rate that I wasn't sure if I was alive anymore. Half an hour, or perhaps even more, passed in silence and my heart was still torturing the rest of my body. Suddenly, the ringing of the grandfather clock surprised me from my contemplations, accelerating even more my heartbeat. I closed my eyes, attempting to distract myself, and found my location not helpful at all. The sight of the telephone covered with dust due to its unused state continued to bother me.

To stop myself from further torturing my heart, I dragged myself—although I lost track of how exactly my body was moving—to a different room, to the only completely enclosed room in the whole mansion, not counting the claustrophobic closets, Tomoyo Daidouji's room. I soon realized why I liked it so much there. It became my sanctuary within my sanctimonious mansion, a layer of security within another layer. When the door was the closed, the room was completely sound proof, as if everything inside resided in another dimension. With some unknown magic, I preserved whoever or whatever was inside. Perhaps that was why Tomoyo Daidouji kept breathing in there, although she was deeply stuck in limbo. As I entered the room, I immediately felt a rush of relief. I wondered, was Tomoyo's healing powers so strong that they even worked when she was asleep? I stared at my hands in confusion. Does that mean that, indeed, I couldn't heal people, that I was still the sorcerer cursed with only spells that could damage foes but not those who could heal friends? I sighed once again, realizing that previously, I was only able to keep Tomoyo alive because of her own magic. I simply redirected her energy and conducted it back to her body.

I truly wished that I was gifted enough and openly warm enough, like Tomoyo Daidouji, to be able to heal someone else. Because then, perhaps I could have saved Kaho's relationship with me. I could have healed our pains, made us forget. It would be different from what Tomoyo did because with my strong magic, I would leave no trace behind, not like Tomoyo did. I could change society entirely according to my own will, define it with new rules that suited my lifestyle. I would be able to heal the world.

I was, after all, proclaimed the most powerful sorcerer of the world.

Ironically, I used my magic for nothing for gardening and trivial chores. Left with no one to duel, my once powerful and invincible magic, began to rot. But still, I was considered the greatest mage of my time because no one practiced curses anymore. Times had changed and people began investing more time and knowledge in what they called science, in subatomic researches, in more efficient manmade inventions, for useless things that could be easily done with magic. Ordinary people were sick of us magicians. They were sick that we could produce everything without much effort and be praised without working hard like they had to. Slowly, we were shunned away from society. Only those who were beneficial to society, like Tomoyo Daidouji, the healer, stayed public and offered her services willingly (although she had no clue she was actually abiding society's laws). Even Tomoyo, however, was bound to her practice forever, unable to escape her fate.

The newspapers, the media, and those same inspirational books and articles that I wrote were to inspire people to achieve personal freedom, limitless self-expression and yet, I was bound by the same damn rules that I argued against. I was forever to be a writer. A philosopher. A thinker. A magician. A recluse.

Suddenly, she stirred. Her right arm which previously sat beside her right thigh moved up to her stomach. She let out a soft moan, an almost sensual noise that shook me from my senses. This was innocent Tomoyo Daidouji, a woman in her early twenties, and a pure woman too. But somehow, I had never realized how pretty she was. Her raven hair fell lazily on the pillows and curved at the right spots, framing her small sophisticated face. Her eyes, although closed, emitted a strange aura of grace and wisdom. And her lips, her rose-purple lips, pouted slightly. She was the perfect image of a saintly young woman, a chaste, cautious, and caring woman, completely opposite to Kaho. Tomoyo was untouchable; the pure white light that sometime surrounded her when I pictured her in my mind often repelled me from her. Sometime, before I touch her, I wonder if a barrier might form around her body. I realized that it wouldn't be surprising if someone out there was looking for her, for a perfect daughter, a perfect girlfriend, or perhaps a prefect wife. But I chuckled to myself. Tomoyo Daidouji became my prisoner ever since she accepted to help Kaho and me.

I gazed at her pitifully again, blaming myself for hurting her over and over again. I reached out for her hand cautiously, not wanting to damage her porcelain skin. As our fingers met, a spark of warmth filled both our bodies. Her cheeks turned a healthy rose again while my heart finally began slowing down from what seemed an eternity ago. I closed my eyes and simply waited there, by Tomoyo's side. If I couldn't help Kaho, I told myself, I could at least help Tomoyo. Part of my mind sought to find Kaho's aura around the mansion while the rest of it redirected Tomoyo's healing power to the poor woman's body.

Her body temperature rose little by little, so slowly that even my keen magical sense couldn't detect the difference, but her skin color looked increasingly better as she turned from the ghostly gray to a healthy peach color.

Slowly, slumber consumed me for the better, as my heart finally came to its normal pace again. My worries about Kaho were all dissipated by my new concerns about Tomoyo. I could not have found a better distraction from contemplating about the special relationship that I had had and still had with Kaho. There were so many mysteries about Tomoyo that I could uncover. The curiosity sparked in me a new form of life, a quest for knowledge that hadn't be revived for perhaps a lifetime or two.

Then, I wondered. Perhaps, Tomoyo Daidouji was connected to my past lives too. After all, her name called out in a strange manner to me, just like how I was drawn to Kaho when we first met.

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**Author's Notes:** Yes, I know. This chapter was crazy slow! I apologize if you don't appreciate description but it was a bit of a pain to write. But seriously, it takes a lot of words to describe Eriol's true feelings at the moment. I probably did repeat too many times the healing part but it's important – it links back to the first few sentences of the fic.

Anyhow, you guys have been great on the reviews lately! Thank you so much – they're making me update more often!

So, again, **please review!** Even a "update soon" is fine.


	9. Preoccupations

**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 9: Preoccupations**

* * *

People often describe a coma as a sleep-like state where you are oblivious of your surroundings. To me, it was more of a death, a complete blackout. I woke up as a new woman, a more dependent and miserable woman.

I expected to wake up in a hospital, or even in Mr. Hiiragizawa's mansion, as I remembered that as the last place that I've been to. But when I rose up again, the room was not what I had expected. It was a small studio, filled mostly with books on one side and kitchen appliances on the other. The size of the studio was pitiful; what was left of the room could barely fit a bed and a portable closet. The white ceiling was tainted with yellow marks as if the roof often leaked when it rained. The worn-out carpet was of a disgusting khaki brown color and the walls a plain and hypnotizing white.

I walked tentatively to the bathroom but got no further than a meter from the bed before I collapsed on the ground, my knees too weak and unused to support any weight at all. I spent the next thirty minutes on the ground, stretching my muscles one by one, as if I had been given a strange and new body. I winced in pain, biting my lower lip harshly, as some of my joints cracked audibly enough to send shivers up and down the rest of my body. Yet somehow, feeling pain for the first time in a long, long time relieved my senses.

I was alive once again.

I wanted to get off the carpet as soon as I could but didn't dare to move my body just yet. So I sat there on the ground and observed the room a bit more. Even I, who paid all her bills off donations from patients, was able to afford a shelter much more… pleasing than this. Whoever lived here must have been very desperate.

But somehow, the room felt so cozy. All the antique furniture, although there was very little, emitted a strange aura that resembled that of a perfect home. The walls seemed to hide many mysteries and the used kitchen stove still held remains from all the delicious meals. Fear never struck me, even though I was unsure where exactly I was. No thoughts of being held captive against my will, or someone taking advantage of my previously half-dead state ever came across my mind. The studio seemed so safe and like a sanctuary.

The studio only had one window, sitting tall on the wall, near the ceiling. It was a lonely sight, so lonely that I was drawn to peer out of the window. What was outside was even more revolting. The streets were dirty beyond imagination, as if nothing but rats and other sorts of vermin resided there. Indeed, whoever this studio belonged to was desperate and poor, someone with no class and no standard of living. I scoffed silently—and hypocritically, although I did not realize. My mission was to help the unfortunate and poor people yet the sight of them repulsed me.

I diverted my attention to something less revolting, the books in the shelves. They were ancient, the covers and binding thoroughly worn out. Whoever lived there must have learned everything about the world from books for it seemed to be the only important objects that occupied the room. The bookshelves stood right in the center of the room, obstructing view and space to walk. The only chair in the room was positioned three feet away from the bookshelves, just enough space to extend one's legs. I scanned the book titles and smiled to myself. They were about gardening, all sorts of magic, philosophy, and psychology.

A sense of relief overcame me, but at the same time, my heart began beating. Why was _he _in a place like this? He had such a huge mansion all to himself, and he had a wife who earned enough money that her philanthropic donations were known worldwide. They were the last people I expected to fall into poverty.

Another thought came over my mind but I suppressed it willingly. There was no way…

I frowned, scrutinizing the books even more closely. At the center of the shelves stood some books written by the man himself, Eriol Hiiragizawa. I reached out for a random book and flipped to where he left the bookmark.

The page was designed perfectly, with letters neither too big nor too small, a perfect size for reading. The words flowed in a surprisingly manner. His prose rendered the difficult and intricate ideas that he discussed in the passages actually quite understandable. He explained in detail, in common language, and inserted just enough personal commentary to keep the reader amused but not veer off track. His writing was flawless, so different from when he normally spoke or how his actions portrayed him. In his writing, Eriol Hiiragizawa was the most humble philosopher ever, debasing himself as he explained rudimentary concepts step by step. I had never seen patience like that in him before. With me, he was always rushing me, asking me what happened, and begging for immediate aid. An odd sensation rushed over me. Never had I met a man who considered readers, who were perfect strangers, closer than people he actually spoke to. Perhaps, he is simply shy, I told myself, attempting to reassure my doubts. After all, I was trapped in his house.

I had no money, no personal possessions, and no physical strength to travel to anywhere. So I had to put up with whatever Mr. Hiiragizawa could offer me. I scanned the room once more. It wouldn't be much, I told myself. Even though I knew that a rather dimmed future lied ahead of me, I was content with it simply because I had stayed alive. If I had stayed in the coma for a day longer, I would have been completely dead, my body entirely used up, and my soul too weak to remain in this world.

I had no intentions of running away, but questions swarmed in my head. How long had it been since I was gone? My heart began accelerating as if I had a gun pointed to my face. "No…" I ignored how hoarse my voice was, overwhelmed by a rushing train of thoughts. What if… What if I was asleep for a year? For a decade? What if all my patients who depended on me had nowhere to go to? They'd be suicidal! All of them were indeed suicidal. Without me, even the most sympathetic relatives would send the patients to asylums. I had betrayed them. I yearned for a mirror, to see my face, perhaps filled with wrinkles but after searching the entire studio inch by inch, found no mirrors. The tiny window did not receive the right amount of light to display my face either. I looked down to my fingers, examining my hand, and luckily found not much change, except for the lack warmth. My fingers traced across my cheeks, my forehead, my chin, my eyes, my lips. Everything was still tender, as they were before, but something seemed different. All of my features were cold, emitting no heat whatsoever.

Left with nothing to do, I continued to read the book that I had picked out earlier, examining Mr. Hiiragizawa's thoughts more in depth. I was always interested and intrigued by his strange logic. Even though he was completely secluded and spoke with no one except for his wife, he seemed to understand human kind in general extensively. At first, I told myself that he had probably made many strange acquaintances in his past lives so he had learned everything about human psychological and philosophical ideals. But, he did not seem to be the kind to have friends at all, even in his other lifetimes. Perhaps, I mused, he simply had the power of observance of a god. He always seemed to gaze into the distance in a dazed look, always pondering about something profound, too complicated to share with Kaho or me. I remembered my first impressions of him, of his arrogance and eccentricity. His arrogance, somehow, was justified by his genius ideas, his perfect writing style, and suave fashion. No one else, I admitted, could still be so traditional in the twenty-first century and pull it off with such an extraordinary style. People loved him for his eccentricity so I supposed that he had a right to be arrogant. He was in high society too and probably had never faced hatred from anyone.

My shoulders slumped slightly. He was so different from me. I was shunned since birth because of my mother. I was not intelligent at all. All that I could do was comforting people because of the gentle manners that I had learned from the monks who kindly (and grudgingly) adopted me into their monastery. Every step that I've taken was to build up my reputation, to erase the consequences and troubles that my mom had stirred. I hated my life. I hated my mother. I hated the fact that I had to pay for something that I had nothing to do with. Yet, part of me felt guilty; maybe, as a child, I had power to stop my mother but never had enough courage to do it. Was it my fault that all those people were dead? And now, all my patients were also hurt because of me…

It was a perfect moment to cry, especially for a young woman like me. If I didn't cry, it would seem so inhuman of me. But I just couldn't do it. My reservoirs of tears were completely empty. In fact, I had never shed a tear for anyone or anything before. Perhaps I was simply too cruel to commit such an act that portrayed nothing but vulnerability and anguish. Perhaps I was cursed with the inability to display such a state. I was meant to be ruthless, yet I was educated in the gentle manners. I never felt true pain because I was too preoccupied about fixing my past. Nothing made sense anymore.

Suddenly the front door clicked open and was flung against the wall with a violent slam. The newcomer, whom I predicted to be Mr. Hiiragizawa or his wife, didn't even bother to apologize for the sudden intrusion. Oh, right, I thought to myself, I am the one intruding in his home.

"You're awake!" a low voice exclaimed.

"Ah, Mr. Hiiragizawa," I began but was cut off.

"Don't ask me any questions just yet," he cut in as he rubbed his forehead in frustration.

He seemed flustered and impatient, as if he had just suffered a rough day at work—Wait a minute. Since when did Eriol Hiiragizawa actually _work_? I gazed at his appearance and frowned. He seemed to have aged so much. His previously soft although worn out look transformed into something rusted and rotting. His eyelids were tainted with fatigue and his previously white skin was tanned several shades darker. He even took out his glasses and put on contacts. His smooth hands, unaccustomed to physical labor, were now used and roughly textured.

"How are you feeling?" he asked with a strange kind of concern. I could not tell if he meant it or faked it.

"Better than before, I suppose," I answered, "although I felt nothing before."

He nodded in understanding and finally walked into the room and closed the door. He deposited a bag that he had in his hand in the claustrophobic closet near the door and relaxed his shoulders a little.

"Are you hungry? We can go out for dinner."

My eyes widened in surprise. Multiple feelings rushed to my head at the same time. Going out? Eriol Hiiragizawa hated the outside world! Another implication pricked at my brain but I dismissed it. He had never cared about my hunger before. He sounded so nice, his voice sweet but not syrupy enough to repel my attention. Mr. Hiiragizawa could have easily summoned food from thin air, I guessed, but I couldn't figure out why he didn't do it. Why go through all the trouble of going out?

I stared at my clothes and for the first time found myself in strange garments. I almost laughed to myself for not realizing it before. I was in a man's dress shirt and boxers. They were certainly his. There was a strange feel to the clothes that was comforting. I realized that the clothes smelled like him, of a musky and masculine scent. He probably expected me to blush in surprise but no color rushed to my cheeks. A curious thought, however, did bother me.

"Why aren't I in Kaho's clothes instead? Her clothes would definitely fit me more."

As he looked down to the disgusting carpet, I realized that I stirred up an uncomfortable subject, if not the least favorable one. I cringed as I watched him suffer a little. He looked like a young child who had just lost his mother. A sudden urge to walk toward him and hug him came over me but I was still unable to get up without hurting myself and a part of me was unable to show pity for him. _He brought it upon himself_, my consciousness repeated over and over again, _you are not guilty for making him speak about it_.

He seemed to have suddenly noticed my awkward position on the floor and decided to help me up as he searched for an acceptable reply.

"Kaho's things are gone. The house burnt down." He spoke in short, choppy sentences unlike before. And after I've read his eloquent writing, the man who stood several feet from me seemed like a completely different person. Also, his voice was emotionless, indicating something extremely wrong. I dared not question him further although my questioning gaze urged him to expand on his previous thoughts. "…I set the house on fire."

"What? Why?" I exclaimed immediately in shock. I knew his strong bond with his mansion. Why in the world would he ever want to damage that bond? It was the only thing he had left from his ancestors. It was worth a fortune for Pete's sake. I grumbled to myself, wondering if this was another kind of entertainment for rich people. They seemed to do extremely wasteful things.

"It was an accident!" he exclaimed, his voice coming to an alarming volume and tainted with nervousness. Something about the way he trembled made me doubt his guiltlessness.

I had never seen Eriol Hiiragizawa in such a state. He was so guilty, so distressed, and so regretful. If I was in my normal state, I would have reached out for his hand immediately but at that moment, my emotional weakness would not have been able to support it.

"It's not your fault," I tried to reassure him but his body began trembling even more. His eyes did not shed tears but all the other parts of his body responded as if he was crying.

"How did it happen?" I asked although he showed no intentions of answering. "Just nod or shake your head, alright?" I added, understanding his speechless state. "Was it magic?" I had expected to be magic. Perhaps he simply lost control of his power for a second. It could have happened very easily but as I kept thinking, something didn't make sense. If it was magic alone that did it, he should have been able to clear the fire in an instant.

He nodded his head slowly. "Was it only magic?" I asked. "Were you in control of your magic at the time?"

He shook his head as I expected. Ah, so Eriol Hiiragizawa went through intense emotions as I lied in my coma. Suddenly, I froze. This was Eriol Hiiragizawa that I was speaking to, the man who cared about no one but his wife…

…His… wife. My eyes widened once again.

"Where is Kaho?"

He froze completely, even his trembling suddenly disappeared. He became as rigid as a board. Even his eyes couldn't roll in their sockets. For a few minutes, I dared not ask anything more. Slowly, _too _slowly, his body relaxed little by little. I then chanced my luck although I truly shouldn't have.

"Where is the baby?"

He was just about to open his mouth and speak but when he heard me, he closed it again. Aghast, in shock, his breathing became extremely irregular and he paled alarmingly.

"H-how do you know a-about the b-baby?" he stammered as he finally spoke once again. Reaching for some physical support, he leaned against the side of the bed.

"Kaho told me," I looked away, "when I dined with her on that day. I couldn't tell you before because you could barely handle the fact that you were siblings. Having a baby together was simply out of the question. That baby defied everything that human kind existed for… peace, prosperity, and goodness."

"The baby… the baby was good," he said with his still shaking voice. "They told me that the baby was a girl. A darling little girl," his voice began trembling even more. My heart nearly stopped as I watched him pitifully. "I was going to name her Clementine, after Kaho's deceased and darling mother."

I replayed every word that he had said slowly in my head and found something that wasn't right. "Why… why 'was'? Where is the baby now?"

"With Kaho," he said.

"And where is Kaho?" I pressed in immediately.

There a long and dramatic pause where he must have thought about the consequences of telling me, although I already had a huge hunch on the answer. My heart already began to soften for him, pitying him more than I had ever pitied my other patients.

"They are dead."

It was then that, without further contemplation, I recognized Eriol Hiiragizawa as possibly the saddest man on earth.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **It has been a while since the last update.

Well, you knew that Kaho was eventually going to be out of the way but mhm…

I personally never liked Kaho's character – she was too perfect, and in the same sense, too flawed. I based Eriol's relationship with her as how I saw it so now you see my rationalization.

More explanations in the next chapter!

**Please review! It'll make you update sooner!**


	10. Promises

**Author's Notes: **Wow, it's been such a long time. I had this chapter done for years, literally, but never got around to posting and editing it. I reread it a couple of times these recent months and tried to edit as much as I could. It's still not perfect but it serves its purpose in explaining the plot!

Enjoy!

* * *

**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 10: Promises**

* * *

Part of me couldn't remember what exactly happened. The other simply didn't want to remember it at all. Despite the fact that I would have healed quicker if I could bring myself to forget it, my memory simply wouldn't let go. Even when I held Tomoyo's hand when she was in her dead-like state, I couldn't feel her healing powers take away that specific memory. It haunted me for months, for exactly three months when Tomoyo Daidouji was "asleep". I have to admit that I kept Tomoyo Daidouji alive for purely selfish reasons; I needed her body to heal my heart little by little. Ever since Kaho was gone, I could not control anything anymore—my emotions, my magic, and my thoughts all condensed to an infinitely dense chaos that I could not escape from. I needed Tomoyo's healing hand to keep myself from doing more irrational things that would completely end my life.

The night that Kaho did not come back, I simply assumed that she found someone else. Actually, I wished that she had found someone else, which was an entirely ironical wish because I wanted her all for myself. However, it was better than the thought of losing her completely to Death. That night, I didn't sense anything dangerous for her. In fact, I felt her soul very calm and comforted. It must have been a lover, my mind told me in disappointment and pain. I knew that she had to move on, and that she would do it before me. After all, we could no longer stay as husband and wife. Our divorce papers had already been processed. Our divorce story earned itself a spot on the inside of a magazine but was mentioned no more. We refused to provide any reason for our divorce—if we did provide reasons, they would be absolutely disgusted and that would ruin Kaho's career—so the journalists stopped bothering us. That night passed by slowly and as sleep conquered me, I sensed Kaho slowly fading away. I told myself that she was driving out of the city, far away from my range for sensing auras. Perhaps she didn't want to hurt my feelings. Ah, Kaho is such a good woman, I told myself.

That night, I remained by the sleeping girl's body the whole time. I couldn't help but to hold her hand and take advantage of her healing powers. Every time I would feel some warmth envelop my body and soul, lifting me above my usual self. I understood why her patients sought her every week, just to get that feeling of comfort and perfection. Slowly, it became an addiction. Her hand, even cold and immobile, emitted a strange intoxicating substance. It was like morphine, oh the dear morphine that blocked all of the nerve sensors in my body. I became paralyzed with bliss, feeling no weight on my shoulders that would otherwise be there because of reality.

For three days, Kaho did not send back any messages. By the second day, I was extremely worried. Even the visitors who went to my garden complained of my ill humor and how my flowers weren't blooming at all. My mood declined little and little, and slowly, I relied on Tomoyo's healing touch more and more. On the forth day, I did not leave the immobile body at all. I even summoned for food without moving my right hand, which clasped onto hers tightly and put up a sign that warded off all the visitors. The mansion felt so lonely. Alone, I could not support it. Without Kaho, Tomoyo was probably the only one who I could depend on, even if I had only known her for a few weeks. My editors were all strangers to me; they were Kaho's friends, not mine. I did not bother to speak with them or treat them as friends as they paid me for my works routinely, not even caring if the quality was acceptable or poor. Kaho always scolded me for that, for not communicating with anyone else, for secluding myself, even if she understood that I could not live in any other way. And every time, although I knew that she was right, I would not listen to her advices.

So, when she was finally gone, I had no one to go to. I cursed the mansion for being so big. Had it been smaller, perhaps I would feel less as if I was trapped in infinite vacuum. On the forth day, exactly at six o'clock in the morning, the sneaky telephone rang loudly. I had been awake all night, just like I had been for the previous three days, although I wasn't exactly conscious. After a few seconds of hesitation, I let go of Tomoyo's hand and found myself in the living room, feeling once again the pain of betrayal and loss. I wasn't sure if I had teleported myself there. Perhaps my wish to hear Kaho's voice through the phone was strong enough to perform physical magic without my realizing it.

However, the voice across the line did not belong to Kaho.

"Is Eriol Hiiragizawa there?" came the voice of a polite young lady.

"…Y-yes." My voice was so quiet. I had not spoken for four days straight and my voice was scratchy and rusty. My throat and voice box were not used to the unfamiliar pressure that speaking aloud brought.

"Your wife, Kaho Mizuki, is currently in our hospital."

Several thoughts rushed immediately to my mind. Kaho was not my wife anymore—

"Hospital?" I exclaimed and thought aloud. "Why is Kaho in a hospital?" It didn't matter if they didn't know that we had divorced. It didn't matter that we were brother and sister. Kaho's life was on the line and I would never be able to forgive myself if I didn't do anything to save her.

"Yes, actually. She's deceased. I am so sorry, sir. We could not identify her body as she was burnt and—"

"NO!" I did not realize that I was screaming at the top of my lungs, as if a thousand bullets had hit me at once, until I heard my own terrible voice in my ears, echoing in my mind. My mouth had acted before my brain could process the information completely. … Dead? Burned? How? Kaho was… fine. Her aura… her aura… only… "…faded," I told myself. "Did she pass away in peace?" I asked the woman, whom I assumed to be a nurse, after catching my breath.

"She died in a car crash, sir," the young woman replied, sounding relieved that the temper that led to my previous outburst was subdued. "We doubt that she suffered through much pain before she did. She must have been unconscious when the engine exploded. The air bags must have caused a rather turbulent stop."

That night, my brain was especially slow in processing information. I had to remember every word and process every image and pain. Kaho had died. In a car crash. Burned alive. Yet, with no pain. Nothing made sense.

"Was it a drunk driver?" I had asked without giving it much thought.

"Yes. The drunk driver is dead too, sir."

My mind screamed. Do not compared Kaho with a drunk driver. If that driver was alive, I would seek to kill him myself. An intense grudge filled my heart and a hatred from the depths of my existence began to erupt I felt my fingertips slowly heating up as I breathed heavily.

"Sir, I do not know if you wish to know but…" she began, waiting for my approval.

I had imagined the worse possible. But what was worse than Kaho's death? _Nothing_.

"Yes?" I asked with dread.

"Kaho and the drunk driver were not the only ones who died," she seemed to gulp at the other end of the line. She must have known Kaho and I through those magazines too. Although she had been trained to deal calmly with these kinds of situations, she still feared my authority. "Your… baby. Kaho's baby died too."

The phone slipped out of my hand as my mind suddenly went blank and my muscles lost strength. Baby? What baby? Our baby? Since when did—Kaho…

"Hello? Hello, sir?" I could hear from the phone as the receiver hung in mid air.

The mansion seemed even emptier than before, if that was possible. That hatred that boiled in me earlier changed into something more terrible. I did not recognize what came over me. Even with all the philosophy and psychology that I've read, even though I knew everything possible about the human mind and thoughts, I couldn't identify my feelings. It was pure devastation, deeper than anything described in those now useless books.

Before I knew anything, flames engulfed the couch beside me. The wooden table that provided support for the telephone crumbled to ashes within second in the intense heat. The phone, too, vanished as the inferno burned through the weak plastic. I could not sense anything. It was hot, but it did not hurt. It was bright but I saw nothing but eternal darkness. I could not admit that I had lost control; I could not face the fact that Kaho was dead.

We lived perfectly together. We understood each other without words. Everyone acknowledged that we were the _perfect _couple, the couple of the century.

Suddenly, we became brothers and sisters.

Then divorced.

Then her, dead.

My thoughts wouldn't weave into a string. These things… these horrible things that happened one after another. Were they punishments for me? Were they punishments for my love for Kaho? How could love be punished? I did not know anything. My love for Kaho was pure, genuine, and perfect. I could not accept the fact that a bit of ignorance could ruin our lives. It simply wasn't fair.

The fire had spread beyond the living room. The walls all melted as if they were made of wax. Bits of the ceiling fell piece after piece although the mansion didn't completely collapse. My clothes must have been on fire as I smelled a strange burning odor envelop me but felt no pain. My beloved mansion, my cursed mansion passed through my ancestors, the mansion that contained all my memories with Kaho and all of our possessions burnt to ashes. The sprinklers that had worked several days ago did not hamper the fire at all. It was a magical fire, one that did not die as long as I could not calm down.

I let the fire burn for a while. Thoughts rushed through my mind and I couldn't conclude anything. I knew that my precious books, recent articles that I've worked so hard on, and those beautiful flowers all burned to ash. It did not matter. Everything must have cost a fortune and would be impossible to return back to normal but I didn't give a damn. Maybe, I believed, if everything burned to ashes, I would forget everything and restart a pure life. A suddenly thought struck me. All of this happened because of _her_. _She _was the culprit.

"Damn you Tomoyo Daidouji. Damn you to Hell."

It did not matter if I did not believe in Hell because at that point, I could have created one without much effort. My wrath was strong enough to bring the world down. With all the magical powers that I had gathered through reading, I could change the entire planet if I tried.

As my wrath became more focused, I could have easily stopped the fire. My magic only went out of the control when it was directed at nothing in particular, if I was simply angry at the world. But at the moment, I directed everything at Tomoyo Daidouji, and cruelly, I decided to just let the fire burn a little more.

She could heal herself, my mind said, she deserves to suffer even in her limbo state. She killed Kaho. Tomoyo Daidouji killed Kaho, killed your baby. You can never, ever forgive her.

I had never been more determined in my life. It was a promise that I would hold on to, no matter what happened, no matter what the witch would do to persuade me. I could smile at her, to her face, and kill her little by little behind her back. A suddenly rush of excitement ran down my body, enveloping me in hysteria.

"Yes," I told myself out loud, "magic is perfect to torture people. Little by little, Tomoyo Daidouji, you will receive the damage that you've caused for not only Kaho and I but for everyone, every single patient of yours. You think that you're such a damn innocent healer but truly, you're the most sinful and lonely woman on earth."

Finally, the fire dissipated, leaving behind nothing but choking dust and ashes. All plant life disappeared. I could see nothing for dark and dry ash and dirt in front of me until my eyes landed on a body clad in white clothes. So her magic had protected her, when she was vulnerable and powerless. She was no healer. She simply wanted to protect her reputation, her soul from Death because she knew that if she didn't commit acts of philanthropy, she would be taken away from this world any second.

I vowed to my name, to my ancestors, that I would cleanse the world of people like Tomoyo Daidouji, pretentious people disguised as angels.

* * *

No one seemed to have noticed the fire. The passing people below the mountain merely thought that the mansion was suffering a bad case of fog and acid rain. If someone had driven up the mountain to check on me, I would have been satisfied. Knowing that at least someone cared about me would greatly reassure me. But no one came. The layer of smoke didn't evaporate for a week. Before it completely cleared, however, I was forced to go down the mountain by starvation and loneliness. The only objects that survived the fire were the ones inside a magical safe. There were my identification information, including birth, marriage and divorce documents, my most famous novel and my important awards. Nothing that belonged to Kaho alone remained. She always preferred to keep her confidential information in the banks' vaults as she didn't fully trust magic. I couldn't even go retrieve her belongings as I did not know the combinations and had no idea where her keys were.

By the second day after the fire, levels of carbon dioxide slowly declined but the air was still suffocating. I only stayed alive because I had cast a protective shield around me. I was unsure how Tomoyo Daidouji survived at all. Before, I doubted her powers but it seemed like I was wrong about those too. Her aura, although dim, still survived. She was in no pain, perhaps in an even better condition than I was, as she saw and knew nothing that happened. Her heart was still weighted by my pains but it had already partially healed.

Everything seemed so long ago. For how long had I known that Kaho was my reincarnated sister? For how long had I realized that I was committing incest? It seemed to have been forever. The guilt that rushed through my body was so strong that I was sure I had to pay for a lifetime worth of torture and misfortune. Everything about souls was so complicated. Even after writing and researching so many things about souls, I still didn't know everything. How are souls of reincarnated humans affected by their previous lives? Were reincarnated souls different souls from their original? Did the passed on souls possess the same feelings, the same hatred? Did Kaho, in a previous life, hate magic too? Did I, in a previous life, fall in love with Kaho too?

With some remaining power, I made a tree sprout out of the ground magically. I needed something to lean on because I was exhausted. If I had no support, I could have fallen on the ground and not be able to get up. The lonely trunk was the only plant alive in a dead circle with the radius of about a mile. My magical fire had indeed manifested with great power. Perhaps, I thought, Kaho was scared of magic because I would lose control one day. And she would be right. Magic came with responsibilities and often, more evil than good was done with magic. Only the stronger and unfortunate souls were gifted with magic. Even those who are gifted with it sometime refuse to accept and utilize it. Tomoyo Daidouji and I were one of the few who were desperate enough to employ magic as parts of our lives. We had at least that much common.

Her limp body was still immobile on the dry and burnt dirt, in the same spot as two days ago. I dared not to touch her for I feared the weak barrier that surrounded her body, the barrier that was powerful enough to protect her from the inferno. Previously, I had thought that Tomoyo was incapable of harming others. Her soul seemed so innocent as she tried to do nothing but help us. She even offered great sympathy Kaho and I instead of pitying us like one would usually do. For a week, or a few days, I felt as if Tomoyo would save Kaho and I from everything, I felt as if Tomoyo was sent by a god that I had never acknowledged before to save me. But I was so wrong. She was the double agent, the seemingly ignorant angel who harmed others in her own subtle way. She carried out acts of charity to perfect her exterior. Everyone trusted her with their lives. But after this fire, everything would change. She would let her patients down as she is slowly consumed by her state and everything that she built in the past would be betrayed.

Although it seemed awfully cruel of me, I chuckled at the foolish and evil girl.

I advanced to her limp body and kneed beside her. My bones ached from tottering from place to place and my lungs were tired from breathing the intoxicated air. Her body, however, seemed to be in a better shape than mine. Yet, she had eaten nothing and performed no magic at all in her unconscious state. How could a body be so regenerative?

I wanted to grab onto her hand, just to suck away some of her power to heal myself of the current pains. I hesitated for a moment, out of consideration, but became even more determined to absorb her power. She didn't need them, I told myself, she was a very powerful witch, a cruelly powerful witch. _She doesn't deserve to live in such a good state. She can stay in limbo for years. That would teach her the proper lesson._

Part of my mind debated back, claiming that Tomoyo Daidouji was an innocent and absolutely philanthropic woman. But that voice was tiny and baseless. I suppressed it without further thoughts.

I grabbed her hand firmly and as my fingers barely brushed against the back of her hand at first, I immediately felt warmth enter my veins and traveling through my circulatory system. It was sensational, a feeling that was barely describable. My pain nerves shut down and nothing mattered anymore. She was like morphine, suppressing all my previous bewildering and evil thoughts, taking away all of the mental and physical pain. I felt nothing at all, no happiness, no sadness, no pride, and no excitement. It was a different sort of warmth than when she was alive. Before, she would concentrate to absorb my pains but in her limbo state, my body simply responded by shutting down. I felt completely numb, and that numbness, contrasted against all the pains that I could have felt if I didn't hold her hand, drove me nearer to her body, as if it was a magnet and I, a paperclip. The strength of her magic called out to me and I responded willingly. Although I hated this woman for all the pains that she introduced to me before the fire and wanted her to suffer, I was unable to kill her. Her body, that intoxicating chemical that she emitted, was simply addicting.

I took a step back, my hand still holding hers but slightly looser. I had to bring Tomoyo Daidouji with me wherever I planned to go. It was decided. Without her, my pains would conquer me easily. Although it seemed impossible to live without Kaho, I couldn't kill myself. I had something to finish before my life ended; I needed to finish my books and my research on souls, magic and philosophy.

It was then that, without further thinking, I proclaimed Tomoyo Daidouji my personal drug, an object that I would use to my advantage through rough situations. She owed me at least that.

With nothing left to restrain me to the mansion, I began my journey down the mountain with Tomoyo's dead-like body floating beside me, her hand still firmly in my grip.

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**Author's Notes: **Please review! I promise to get chapter 11 up sooner. It'll explain Tomoyo's past in some detail.


	11. Punctured

**Author's Notes: **If you saw a story alert for this, nope, you are not hallucinating! I am actually back from the dead! Harhar. Relatively short chapter coming head with a long AN at the end.

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**My Dearest Morphine**

**Chapter 11: Punctured

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There was something strange in his voice, something foreign that never flowed through his body before. There was a strange light in his eyes when he looked at me but the change was so subtle—or, at least, on the exterior—that I could not identify exactly what it was. He didn't seem at ease when he approached me and helped me up to the bed. I could see that part of him lingered on, still stuck on Kaho, while the other half moved on quickly.

"How long has it been?" I asked. I hoped wholeheartedly that it hasn't been more than a month. I had already neglected Rena before; if I ignored her calls and her brother's requests, I didn't think that anyone would be satisfied.

"About three months. Two months and twenty-eight days, actually."

I was left speechless, thousands of thoughts entering my brain at the same time. Three months? I had five appointments per day, five days per week. "I missed three _hundred_ appointments?"

"I believe so," he answered casually, as if it was nothing grave.

It was extremely hard to suppress my anger but somehow, I managed it. I couldn't get angry at him; after all, it wasn't his fault that I was unconscious for that long. He couldn't have poisoned me to limbo, I laughed at the idea. But inside, I was aghast. Who paid the rent for my office, for my apartment? Were my patients alright? I—

"I need to go back," I said stubbornly. "Heal me better so that I can go back."

"You are in no condition to go anymore, Miss Daidouji."

The straightforwardness in his voice sent a chill down my spine. Only three months, he had been so kind, so gentleman-like. His politeness still remained but the coolness of his voice was simply intimidating, as if he hated me more than anything in the world. I shivered at the thought. Perhaps, he had the right to do so. I frowned and closed my eyes, attempting to calm my nerves. It was too soon to worry about everything that happened while I was asleep.

"Can't you heal me though? I'd feel much better," I asked for a favor. It should have been an easy task for a magician like him.

"I can't," he replied simply. A smile crept up his lips but it seemed so awkward that it seemed faked.

"Please," I began in a begging tone, "you are a powerful magician. Healing only takes concentration and a heart. I'm sure that you have both." I arched an eyebrow slightly at him. He certainly had concentration as I saw him cast spells before. Had he no heart?

"… Some people are simply not fit for healing." He rejected me again. I groaned in frustration.

"May I use your body as a vessel, then?" He gave me a slight nod in hesitation, as if I was going to harm him. "No, it's not going to hurt. It'll actually make you feel better too as you feel the energy flow. But you are going to feel a bit tired, nothing that some rest and food can't fix though."

I reached my arms and grasped both of his hands at the same time. He didn't welcome the physical contact at first but eventually his muscles softened and relaxed. Our bodies formed a complete circuit. The energy flowed abundantly through our bodies, recycling itself as it reached our hearts and our fingertips. Jolts of electricity sparked where our fingers met but he didn't withdraw. He seemed completely numb and somehow, that seemed to please him. I frowned at the thought but dismissed it immediately afterwards. Eriol Hiiragizawa couldn't be _addicted _to this, could he? I had one patient before who sought me only to relieve pain instead of healing. That was not what I did. I was supposed to heal people, change people for the better, not just serve as a physical form of morphine, as a pain suppressant.

The energy flow became more turbulent as each second passed. Soon, the electricity jolts were strong enough to heat up the room completely. Beads of sweat glided down his forehead from his hair but he didn't seem to mind. His eyes were completely closed and his scrunched face indicated perfect concentration. I let my mind wander elsewhere as I was already accustomed to these sort of energy transfers. I had done it with physically and emotionally weak patients before. This time, however, I was the one receive the energy, not giving it. Using my own therapy on myself felt strangely unfamiliar. I felt confident when I healed others but when I attempted to heal myself, the energy flow collided and slowly built into chaos. After perhaps a quarter of an hour, Mr. Hiiragizawa finally opened his eyes. His breath was heavy and fast, as if he was suffocating. He looked into my eyes in pain and indicated his suffering.

Immediately, I withdrew my hands and arms and sighed.

"Thank you. That felt good."

In return, he could barely mutter a "mhm", as if his tongue and mouth were still paralyzed and numbed by the physical therapy method.

I felt recharged, but not completely. Still, the feeling was satisfactory. My cheeks' normal warmth returned and my palms were saturated with red once again. I could move my fingers, toes, legs, arms, ankles, wrists and body with ease, although some parts still felt rusted. The final test came: I attempted to stand up. With much effort, I finally succeeded. It felt great to be weighted down by gravity and be able to stand up against it. It was a strange feeling, as if I had floated in vacuum before I stood up. The previous numbness in my legs disappeared instantly and I felt alive again. I tottered, clutching at the bookshelves, chair, and walls for support as I walked. But still, walking again felt simply invigorating.

I was a bit disappointed that Mr. Hiiragizawa did not acknowledge any of my efforts. With a _thump_, he fell backwards onto the bed, not caring if he had crushed something or if he had messed up his hair. He used to care before, I thought to myself. I hoped for the best that this change was beneficial to me. He had lowered his standards substantially; everything from living quarters to the food in the cabinet dropped in quality in at least three levels. Before, his house was filled with tiny pastries, like those you would see at exquisite dinner parties where each bite cost a fortune and were way too pretty and delicate to swallow; but now, he had no snacks at all except for the rotting apple sitting on the cutting board. I wondered why he had left it there.

"Do you work now, Mr. Hiiragizawa?" I asked curiously. If I remembered right, Kaho was the one who provided all financial support for him. She even admitted that the editors of the magazine and newspapers sometime took Mr. Hiiragizawa's articles only because she had paid them to. At the time, the thought of it was purely hilarious but now, it seemed so depressing. His writing, the one thing that he was genuinely proud of, was not taken seriously by others at all.

"I work in a flower shop."

Well, that was a humble job, I told myself. "Do you use magic to make the plants grow, like you made those plum blossoms grow, Mr. Hiiragizawa?"

"I'm not sure—I don't think so—I hope not. That would be cheating, wouldn't it?"

There was something disturbing about his hesitant statements. How could one not be aware that one is using magic? Magic didn't simply flow out of one's fingers. One had to concentrate and cast spells. I was sure that he had never considered magic a cheating tool before. We, people with magic, used it perhaps for granted, but we were gifted with it for a reason. Those of us who were willing to use it with consequences didn't follow any rules at all. Why was he questioning his motives?

"Are you feeling fine?" I asked, concerned.

He nodded in reply, as if so unsure that he could not pronounce his answer. I sensed something significantly wrong in his behavior but couldn't pinpoint it exactly.

"If I cannot go back alone, then will you come with me?" I asked. Again, he only shook his head in reply. Why was he so mute? Another groan of frustration came over me. "Why? I simply want to get my phonebook so that I can reach my patients and contact them. I will also leave you alone for the rest of your life, if you wish. I have burdened you for three months already; I wouldn't want to impose myself more on you. It'd be too much to ask. I would feel much more comfortable at home too." I paused to take a breath of air. Seeing no change in his expression, I sighed. "Please, Mr. Hiiragizawa."

"Call me Eriol," he said.

I arched an eyebrow in response. "Of course, Eriol. So is that yes or no?"

"I don't think that you'd be comfortable if you go back."

"Why?" I blinked in confusion.

"Because that apartment isn't yours anymore."

"Oh." I retracted from my position and leaned against the wall softly. A sudden fatigue and migraine conquered me. "Of course, you wouldn't pay my rent for me." My tone was not accusing but perhaps he took it the wrong. "I don't expect it. You don't seem to be very… financially adept right now."

"Indeed," he simply agreed.

"But really," I began again, probably touching one of his nerves of patience. "You can at least let me go get my phonebook from my office."

"I don't think that you'd want to go there."  
"Well, I'm sure that, since you obviously haven't paid my rent for the office either, there must be a new owner there. But the owner wouldn't… throw _everything _that I possessed away. Perhaps the owner tried to contact me. I forgot my cell phone in the office. I could just go get it."

"No, that's not it," he sighed in exasperation. He finally shifted his body a little and sucked in a long breath of air, as if preparing for a long discourse. "Your office, actually, has been pronounced cursed."

"What?"

"Apparently one of your patients committed suicide," he looked at me straight in the eyes. I didn't know whether it was the terrifying news or his stare that scared me the most. "Her brother blamed it on you, saying that you caused the suicide because you treated his sister with utmost cruelty. It's actually a quite well-known story around town, more known that my divorce with Kaho. You shouldn't go out; I don't think that you would appreciate people's glare on your back. They think that you've killed her." He frowned at me in a questioning gaze. "I don't know what you actually did, but you do seem to be able to kill someone without much effort."

"_Excuse _me?" I exclaimed. Where did that come from? "I've never killed anyone in my life before! I—I—"

"Of course you have. You were born only because your mother killed others. You watched others being killed and showed no compassion for their torture. You _killed _Kaho. If it weren't for you, Kaho would be alive! And I, I wouldn't be like this! I would be in my mansion, writing, reading, and speaking calmly to Kaho." I was surprised that he managed to say so much, finally expressing what had been suppressed within him. So during this whole time, he had secretly hated me? Why keep me alive then, in his apartment? There had to be a reason.

"I'm sorry that I burst your bubble then," I spat, venom dripping from my voice. "I did not kill anyone. I couldn't do anything about my mother's killings either—besides, how do you even know about those?"

"I have connections with the magical community. Thoughts and words travel around faster than you'd think."

"Fine," I spat, "but my mother has nothing to do with me. I am done with her. I've erased all of her leftover sins. I am a good person now; I heal others for a living. I don't demand anything in exchange. I volunteered my time and services to you without any compensation and you accuse me of killing your wife? That's simply absurd," my voice did a crescendo after each word. My heart accelerated little by little and my wrath was so close to eruption. This man… this Eriol Hiiragizawa dared to accuse innocent _me_ of committing countless sins? "It was your choice to come to me in the first place. I do not seek my patients."

"But it was your name who called out to me," he said stubbornly. Almost as he uttered those words, he could sense their stupidity and irrationality, but he did not back down.

"My name does not represent anything. My name merely contains two words. You can call me anything, anything at all. You can call me Kaho, and I'd still be the same person. That is a desperate excuse, Mr. Hiiragizawa."

A silence reigned over the room. I could hear his heavy breathing clearly, my heart racing faster as he drew in each breath.

"Do. Not. Insult. My. Wife's. Name. Ever. You. Cruel. Witch." Every word was enunciated with utmost clarity. A chill ran down my spine.

Before I could respond with a word or an action, I felt my back crash against the hard the floor. The carpet that I was disgusted at earlier was the only thing that prevented my skull from splitting into two. Eriol Hiiragizawa had shoved me on the hard floor with such a brute force that immediately, all the energy that I had gained earlier suddenly evanesced into thin air. I could have fallen into limbo once again but my conscious screamed loudly and refused to let me fall asleep again.

"Get. Out." He spoke in the same intimidating manner as before. "GET OUT!" That, that was an outburst, a simple outburst that was filled with nothing but absolute rage.

For the first time in my life, I was so scared that I could not move a centimeter. Even my chest was paralyzed… I could not breathe.

With all the force left in my body, I called forth enough strength to crawl weakly and slowly away from the fuming man.

"I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry to have caused you trouble for these three months, for everything, for your mansion, for Kaho—" I knew that these apologies wouldn't make anything better. But I had to try. I had no where to go.

"Just go…" His voice died down again.

Before he could utter another word, I crawled out of his apartment and shut the door. Relieved, I leaned against the corridor wall and sighed. My body ached more than ever and I felt a strange sensation overpower me. My heart wrenched in pain and my eyes stung. An unfamiliar salty liquid escaped my eyes. I touched it with my trembling fingers and blinked back in confusion. Were these… tears?

I dropped my head a bit backwards so that it hit the wall softly. For the first time in my life, the tears streaked down my cheeks like water fell in a chute.

I could not control these feelings, these strange feelings that overcame me as the most menacing image of _his _face appeared in my head. Not wanting to face him again, I could do nothing but slowly crawl away from his apartment. I did not know where I was but anywhere, I told myself, anywhere would be better than here. Silently, I prayed for someone to come and save me.

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**Author's Notes: **WHAT? It's been eleven months since I've updated? *smashes head against the wall*

I swear, I had most of this chapter written already. I think that I waited because I wanted to continue the scene… who knows what I thought a year ago.

I even had to reread the last chapters and reviews to catch up where I was at with this story. Speaking of reviews, I just realized that I've done a crappy job at replying them. I usually don't put these in the actual chapters but since this one is so short, why the heck not.

SnowCharms – Kaho didn't have a will (yeah, I totally overlooked that, heh). But I honestly don't think that she'd have one because she wouldn't imagine herself dead in her late twenties.

Midnight Ghost - *blushes* thank you. I hope that you keep reading!

S – Kaho actually died in a car accident – her body was burned as an aftermath. Sorry if that was confusing. The last chapter was formatted very weirdly (fanfictionnet took out all of my quote marks). And yay, I'm glad that you agree with my thoughts on Kaho/Eriol.

tomoyo-amethyst – Oh dear, you must think that he's even more insane now!

boredjl – Tomoyo actually woke up in the last chapter. It's not exactly in chronological order because of the POV switch, heh.

twiinklestar – "5 months later" – oh gawd I did worse than that! :( But yes, Eriol is a very sadistic man. Writing his POV really cracks me up in the weirdest way sometime…

cheng – Yep, big change for him. It'll get better for him though. Won't torture him for that long… hehehe.

HyperMint – oh dear. It's funny that you mentioned Tomoyo as a witch and I used that exact insult in this chap… I swear, I wrote this a long time ago, haha. I think this chap kinda explains the title a bit more, where Tomoyo is compared to morphine.

James Birdsong – Thank you! (Ohmygosh, a guy reviewing this? Gasppp)

(Oh and I just noticed that Pinboo is reading this. My bad I didn't notice earlier – I suck at remembering pen-names. But dude, you are the God of ET. I seriously worship you.)


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